


Hidden in Plain Sight

by cityskyliinee



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hydra (Marvel), Idiots in Love, Marvel Universe, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter turns up in like chapter seven, Slow Burn, Steve is a complete dad, and Nat is a total mom for that matter, but not really, but only slightly - Freeform, everyone is a mess, romanogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2019-08-07 16:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 71,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16411808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cityskyliinee/pseuds/cityskyliinee
Summary: Adara Thomas, a girl with strange abilities, has been living a dysfunctional life in a foster home for over a year since her escape. That was until none other than the Avengers take her under their wing and, suddenly, she's being sent to a normal school and leading an almost normal life. Though, 'normal' isn't the word she'd used to describe that cute, nerdy guy.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this story was originally posted on Fanfiction.net, I'm just translating it onto here gradually when I have the time. This is Scrapingskies for anyone who's come over from fanfic.net, no one is plagarsing me again lol.  
> Anyway, if you check out the version on Fanfiction.net, there's more content/info about the story there. I reply to reviews (but I'll probably do that on here too) as well as author's notes and incorrect quotes.  
> Anyway, these first few chapters are kinda cringey looking back, but I don't have the energy or the time to rewrite them/check on grammar. There's also a lot of French in it, which is poorly written and you'll see that if you're French. I also don't translate the French all the time, but I'm too lazy to retranslate it and guess what I'm trying to say. It's not entirely relevant, so you don't need to worry about translating it yourself.  
> I also have a playlist for this fanfiction which can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLwhITb_blv7I5tcnW5o-OAxS1_4U35X6-  
> Just push through these awful first few chapters, it gets a little better once we get past the slow moving introduction.  
> Peter shows up in Chapter 7

"Maman!" The little girl yelled in French, "Papa!"

The girl, who could be no older than six, used her elbows to drag herself through the dust that filled the air. She was trapped underneath the floorboards of the house, crawling towards where she had last seen her parents. Her face was caked with grime, tears and dirt. Her short, dark hair twisted and tangled, sticking up in all kinds of places.

When the dust cleared, she could see there lifeless bodies drenched, dead eyes staring at the wooden planks where the bullets that had pierced their chests had created small holes, allowing in the murky light of dusk to peer through.

The girl had sat beside the bodies, crying and crying and crying until her chest hurt and she could make no more sounds or shed any more tears. She shook them over and over, her hands slowly becoming more and more soaked in the blood.

"Réveille-toi, maman," she stared into her mother's unseeing eyes.

A shadow of a man blocked the light.

"Grab her," he said.

She was pulled away from her parents by strong arms, who easily tugged her off of the bodies. She screamed, she cried, but it was pointless. She was only six.

She was plunged into the thick snow, on her hands and knees, the men having little care about how cold she felt. The snow reached buried her hands and legs, so she was left vulnerable and shivering. She looked up, squinting from the setting sun's reflection on the white powder. She was surrounded by men with guns, all pointed at her. The obvious leader towered over them all, though he did not hold a weapon.

"Adara Thomas," said the man, looking down at her, "My name is General Luka, of SHIELD or HYDRA, whichever you prefer." He then frowned, "I presume you have no idea what I'm saying."

The fear in Adara's vivid green eyes only seemed to increase as he said the words, the confusion on her face was obvious and was attempting to get to her feet. A man standing behind her kicked her so she was back on her knees.

"Meurtre!" She screeched at him.

Luka gave her a sly grin, which then turned into a frown. "Tu feras ce que je dis."

Adara's expression turned to confusion to disgust, "non!"

He crouched down and looked at her, but didn't seem to be angry at her refusal. In fact, he tilted his head, almost amused.

"I would apologise for my abhorrent French," he said, "but you wouldn't understand what I was saying. You don't understand what I'm saying now."

She attempted to scramble away from him, but he grabbed her wrist, his grip like steel on the skinny girl.

"But one day, Adara, you will understand. You'll understand all of this. I never wanted it to come to this, but your mother left me with no choice. They don't understand how important HYDRA really is, but you will, I'm sure."

Obviously having no understanding of what he was saying, Adara was still attempting to pull her wrist away, the six-year-old seemed revolted by him.

"HYDRA has need of you, as does the rest of the world," he stood up, dragging her up with him, "do as I say, Adara, and the world will hail."

... 

Adara woke with a start, her arm moving in front of her face defensively without her even realising she was doing it. At the same time, she banged her head on the roof above her head. She cursed her stupidity and glanced at her watch, five thirty in the morning, but she wasn't particularly keen on going back to sleep.

She sat upright on the top of the bunk bed, the room around her silent, aside from the soft snoring of the other girls also in her room. She sighed, letting herself calm down.

There were probably around five other people sleeping in the same room with her, each around a year or two younger than her. The room had six chests of drawers, each one identical, cheap and easily breakable. Adara didn't have many belongings anyway and what she did own she kept on her at all times, she didn't want anything falling into the wrong hands.

She ran a hand through her black hair; it was messy and tangled, that was going to be a pain to deal with. She couldn't imagine the rest of herself looked better. Her vivid green eyes that contrasted greatly with her tanned skin tone were red, bloodshot and tired. She groaned, pushing her hair back so it was out of her face.

Realising there was no way she was going back to sleep, Adara fished under her bed for the torch and a notepad along with a pen. She turned the flashlight on and flicked through the notepad, the majority of pages filled up with neat writing in black ink.

Day 365

September 19th, 2014

Today marks exactly one year since I escaped, and now I've been stuck in this crappy foster home for ten months. I suppose this place is better than HYDRA will ever be; at least no one beats the crap out of me if I talk back. Then again, at least HYDRA never made me wash the dishes.

Being honest, I'm surprised that HYDRA hasn't managed to find me by now. There's only so many orphans named Adara in America. It's probably because of what happened in D.C. with Captain America. HYDRA probably isn't as strong as they used to be after that. I know they're rebuilding though. 'Cut off one head and two more shall take its place.'

I don't know what would happen when if they find me.

If Luka finds me-

"Adara!" A voice made her look up.

She glanced down, a girl, Adara was sure her name was Catherine, from the bottom bunk of the bed beside her was glaring up at her.

"What?" She asked, glaring, her French accent slipping into her tone ever-so-slightly.

"Turn the light off," she said, "some of us are trying to sleep."

"You do realise that to sleep, you have to close your eyes," sneered Adara, "last time I checked, you can't see with your eyes closed."

"Yeah, well you rustling that paper is causing a lot of noise."

"Your voice is louder than my rustling."

"Whatever, Adara, you're just rude. I'm only asking you turn your light off."

"Shut up, Cathy," mumbled another girl sleepily from another bed, "I'm trying to sleep."

Adara smirked back at Catherine who huffed in annoyance, before pulling the blankets over her and turning over, so her back was facing Adara. The girl rolled her eyes and turned back to the notebook, before realising she had nothing left to write.

With a sigh, she put her notebook away and got out a different book, still unwilling to fall back asleep.

"And you are sure it is him?" Asked Adara, poking her head round the corner, "I don't want to accidentally steal from some random guy."

"Random guy?" Snorted James, "Look at him, Adara, he's a white man in a fancy business suit. Have some faith in me!"

"I don't have faith in anyone," she said bitterly, eying the man up, "what does he have?"

"A lot of money in that wallet."

They were right in the heart of Queens, watching a rich blonde man talk business with an equally important looking man whilst sipping a cup of coffee in an elegant cafe across a busy street from their hiding spot in an alleyway. He had a metal briefcase beside him, which made Adara's eyes narrow in interest.

"What do you think is in the briefcase?" She asked.

James rolled his eyes, "I don't know everything about him, probably the codes to some nuclear weapons or something."

She sighed, turning back to him, "what's the plan then?"

"You distract him, I'll grab the wallet."

"And what do you want me to be?"

James frowned, humming in thought. "Try a mid-twenties blondie, big tits too."

"Blonde? Ugh, fine."

Adara closed her eyes and James watched in fascination as Adara miraculously grew a few inches taller, her skin became lighter, her hair turned blonde and her chest became larger. When she opened her eyes, she was a completely different person. Apart from the eyes, of course, she could never change her eye colour. She grimaced as her clothing, which involved a plain white t-shirt and leggings, suddenly felt a little tight.

"That will never not be cool," said James shaking his head, "you've gotta tell me how you get those powers."

Adara, who now looked like she could be James' mom, shook her head, "in your dreams. Okay, he's getting up, I'll move in. Pass me the phone."

James did so, passing her a broken Stark Phone. She nodded back at him and began to move towards the target. As she entered the hectic street, the man stood up, shaking hands and saying his last farewell to the other businessman. She did her best to pout out her lips into a frown and look down at the broken phone, wandering seamlessly until…

"Ow," grunted the blonde businessman as Adara walked straight into him. He dropped the much more expensive phone he had been holding in his hand.

"Oh my God!" She exclaimed in the best stupid American accent she could, "I am so sorry."

She bent down to pick up the phone, not missing the way he glanced down at her breasts if only he knew that she was actually just a thirteen-year-old shape-shifter.

"It's okay," he said, smirking slightly as she handed back his phone.

The overwhelming arrogance within him almost made her visibly cringe in disgust, but she did her best to hide it as she rabbited on. "I'm so clumsy!" She exclaimed, "my phone broke just randomly and I was trying to get it to turn back on but it wasn't. And I know it didn't run out of battery because it was seventy-five percent."

"Here, let me have a look," he said, and she handed him the phone.

Behind him, Adara spotted James walking down the street as if it were no one's business as to what he was up to. Though the man seemed to sense someone walking up behind him, so Adara quickly went on talking again.

"What do you think?" She said, now straining to keep up the American accent, which was especially difficult considering her natural accent was a French one.

His attention focused back on her, "well, it's definitely an older model, I'm surprised it's lasted this long."

James slipped behind him, swiftly but quietly snatching the wallet from his pocket and walking off, nodding to Adara who gave away no sign that she saw him.

"Do you think I can get it fixed?" She hurried the conversation along.

"You'd probably be better to get it upgraded," he said, handing her the phone back, "go check it out at the repair shop, see what they have to say."

"Okay! Thank you!" She smiled at him, "and sorry for bumping into you."

"That's okay," he eyed her up, "you never told me your name."

"Tiffany," she lied before hurrying away before he could ask more questions.

Once she was sure she lost him, she stepped back into the alleyway and relaxed, transforming back into her normal body.

"You Americans have a terrible accent," scoffed Adara to James when he reappeared with the wallet, "all you do is talk, tout le temps, it's annoying."

"Yeah, yeah," James said, "but we got the money."

"How much is there?" She peered at the leather wallet curiously.

He opened it and grinned, "man is obviously a bit dodgy, there are several credit cards in here along with many, many fifty dollar bills. That's more than enough for booze and cigarettes."

Adara wrinkled her nose, "just get the alcohol, I don't want to kill mes poumons by smoking cigarettes."

"Either way we're sorted for two months," he grinned, "oh, crap, he's coming over."

"Who?" Adara looked up to see the rich blonde man, obviously looking for the girl he had been talking to, probably having noticed that his wallet was missing.

"Hey," he said, looking vaguely confused, "I thought I saw a blonde girl walk in here… have you seen anyone?"

Adara gestured for James to keep silent and frowned, "lo siento, no hablo inglés."

He looked at the two of them for a second before sighing and walking off, "never mind…"

"What was that?" James asked once he had left.

"Spanish, people get scared when others can't understand them."

"I thought you hated that language."

"No, that's German," she told him as though it were obvious, "I hate that almost as much as I hate Russian."

"Then why do you waste your time trying to learn all the languages?" Asked James, exasperated.

"Because I've got nothing else to do," Adara glanced at her watch, "we need to head back anyway. Madame Lillian will kill us if we're late back. We can buy beer tomorrow."

The two nodded and began to head back. When social services had found Adara living on the streets of Manhattan, they had quickly taken her in an placed her under the foster care system. But she was far too old for anyone to even be interested in her, not to mention the home was underfunded, so that meant crappy living conditions. Adara knew it was better than what she had before, so she rarely complained.

The issue was James. He was the first person that had gone out of his way to talk to Adara, but that was only because he had accidentally caught her shape-shifting. They had struck up a deal. If James kept his mouth shut about the power, she would help him steal. Adara had little remorse to those who she stole from, mainly because she would usually be able to drink alcohol in return.

Queens wasn't exactly the worst place to live, but it wasn't exactly sunshine and roses either, especially when it came to the underground businesses. The past ten months of Adara's life had been avoiding cops, stealing, testing out drugs before deciding to never for them only to then try them again and drinking her problems away.

As they walked back into the foster home, a lot of the kids were crowded around the television, watching a news report.

"Brock Rumlow, former leader of SHIELD's strike team and exposed HYDRA agent, who had been badly injured from falling rubble after the fight at the Triskelion in D.C awoke from his coma earlier this morning," said the blonde news anchor on tv.

Adara stopped in her tracks, examining the picture of Rumlow on screen.

"However, despite being in a coma for several months after being knocked out early last April, Rumlow was still able to knock out his nurse and escape his hospital room. An investigation is now underway."

Adara frowned deeply, thinking about Rumlow. She knew him, of course. She had been one of her many tormentors during her time with HYDRA. He was never quite as prominent in her life as people like Wolfgang Von Strucker and General Luka were, but he was sometimes there. News of Rumlow's escape and the likeliness that he would be able to go running back to the remnants of HYDRA without any repercussions disgusted Adara.

"You okay?" Asked James, noticing she had become distracted.

"Je veux tuer l'homme à la télévision," she said honestly before switching back to English, "yeah, I'm fine, just thinking."

 

"I can't believe that whole this with Captain America at the Triskelion was only five months ago, feels much longer than that."

"Maybe," she shrugged, unwilling to push the subject any further, "we should probably go check on Madame Lillian, she'll probably want to know that we're back."

...

A few hours later

Avengers Tower

"Any updates?" Asked Steve Rogers as he walked into the room.

Natasha Romanoff shook her head, "nothing. Rumlow has vanished completely, of the radar, no sign of him at all."

"He had outside help," mused Steve.

"He had outside help," agreed Natasha, "from HYDRA, obviously."

"And to think there was a chance he might have helped us located the sceptre." He shook his head, sitting down on one of the many sofas there was to find in the main living space in Avengers Tower. "We've still got nothing."

"We have JARVIS going through the encrypted HYDRA files, but they're almost impossible to decode, so don't expect much from that."

Steve sighed heavily, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa and rubbing his forehead, deep in thought.

Natasha glanced cautiously at the fellow Avenger, "We'll find Barnes, Steve, the world is only so large."

"All this searching just seems pointless," said Steve with a sigh, "we've got no further with the sceptre, HYDRA or Bucky."

"Despite what they want you to think, HYDRA will mess up sooner or later."

"Yeah, well I'm just sort of hoping it's the 'sooner' part, rather than later."

"Well-"

But the red-headed assassin was cut off by Tony Stark dramatically entering the room. He was sipping a shot of whiskey and sat down. "I think I've got you something you might like, Cap," he said, tossing something into Steve's hands.

He looked at them, frowning. They were printed off photos of around five to six men walking down the streets, the image looking like one taken by a security camera outside a shop. They didn't look like much more than low-life thugs, so Steve was confused. He handed it over to Natasha, who analysed the image with a lot more scrutiny than he had.

"I don't understand," Steve said, "how is that supposed to help us?"

"Well, I know its no Bucky Barnes, but each of these people are criminals and are wanted for associating with illegal activity with HYDRA. They managed to run off at the battle at the Triskelion, figured that they'd probably gone into hiding. But, they were caught on security cameras near this building only ten minutes ago, presumably heading to Queens."

"Why? What do think is gonna happen when they waltz back in here?" Natasha asked scornfully.

"Well, as far as these smarties are concerned, no one else knows that they're here. They don't even know that we managed to get these images of them."

"Any idea of what they're doing in New York?" Asked Steve.

"None at all," Tony shook his head, "but they've come in a large group, it wouldn't be a massive leap of faith to say that they're planning on something big."

"How do we track them down?"

"I can get JARVIS to scan all footage in the area, from that we can follow them until they get to wherever they're going."

Steve frowned, leaning back slightly. "There's not enough of them, it's too suspicious. If they were planning on committing some terrorist act, it doesn't feel quite right."

"Maybe they're after something," Natasha said suddenly, "you said they were heading to Queens, right?"

Tony nodded.

"Well, maybe there's something or someone there."

"But what?" Steve wandered.

"Yeah," Agreed Tony, his face dismissive, "it's only Queens. The most exciting that's ever come out of there is Garfunkel."

"Maybe they're planning on stealing something?" Steve said more to himself than anyone else, "but what?"

"How about we get off our asses and go find out for ourselves," The billionaire stood up, "we're the Avengers, aren't we? Let's suit up."


	2. Chapter 2

“Get up!”

“Get up, you stupid girl!”

“Adara!”

...

She gasped awake, hitting her head on the wall behind her for the second night in a row. She became completely still for a few seconds, her eyes wide and staring into space, before relaxing ever so slightly. 

She checked her watch, 1:09am, and sighed, a deep long exhale that did very little to release the tension in her body and mind.

So, Adara did what she always did and pulled out her notebook from underneath her bed, flicking to the next free page.

Day 366  
September 20th, 2014

Something bad is going to happen.

Just as she dotted the full stop, the entrance to the room creaked open. Her eyes instantly moved upwards, her eyes narrowing in on the bedroom entrance before checking around the room, every other girl was in deep sleep. She held the pen in her hand, prepared to use it as a weapon if she had to.

Though, to her relief, it was James who popped his head round the doorway. He spotted Adara looking down at him and gestured for her to come. As quietly as possible, she climbed down from the top bunk and snuck out the room, her feet not even making a creak as she lightly stepped on the wooden floorboards.

Once she was out of the room, James closed the door behind them. It wasn’t much brighter in the corridor than it had been in the bedroom room, but it was just as silent. The corridor was lined with other doors leading to other bedrooms, including Madame Lillian, the woman who headed the foster home. They crept past her door extra quietly, and didn’t relax until Adara had picked the lock out the back door and they were several feet away from the foster home.

“Why did you take me out here then?” Asked Adara.

James handed her some clothes that weren’t the pyjamas she was wearing, “I got you these. We’re going to that party, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” said Adara, taking the clothes, truthfully having no idea what he was talking about, “how could I forget?”

“I swear I mentioned it,” assured James, “I did tell you earlier.”

 

“Then I probably wasn’t listening,” she shrugged, “I’ll be right back.”

 

She hid behind one of the buildings, waiting until a van driving down the street had passed before changing into the more casual clothes, which included a simple pair of black leggings, matched with a white t-shirt and and a black jacket. She appeared in front of James and shoved her pyjamas into his bag and began to rummage through her pockets, looking for something.

He looked at her, “what is it?”

She felt what she was looking for on one of her inside pockets, and nodded to herself as she drew them out. “Knives,” she said in a completely flat voice.

“Why do you need a knife?” He asked, “all you have to do is to shape-shift into some super buff guy and scare people off.”

 

“I’d prefer not to shape-shift right now,” she told him simply, slipping the knives back into her pocket, “Plus, I’m pretty handy with knives.”

 

“Why are you expertly trained in knife fighting?” James asked, intending to be sarcastic.

Adara just raised an eyebrow at him, causing him to sigh.

“Anyway,” he said, “we’re going this way,” the two began walking but he continued chatting, “see, the other day, after we stole that rolex off that woman, I sold it to this guy for a way cheaper price who invited to this ‘kick-ass’ party. So I figured we should go.”

“Wait,” she looked at him, “you sold the watch.”

“Yeah,” he said, “why? Didn’t want me to sell it?”

“You didn’t pay me,” she argued, “I was the one that stole it.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll pay you your share tomorrow.”

“Good,” she huffed, “dickhead.” Her accent was more prominent when she swore.

“Hey!” He glared at her, but he wasn’t really angry.

She changed the topic, “how far away is this damn party? It’s cold.”

“Not far,” he grinned, “plus, it will be totally worth it when we get there. There’s a lot of booze, a lot of drugs and a lot of ladies.”

 

“I think the ladies will appeal to you more than to me.”

“I damn well hope so.”

Adara tilted her head to look at him. James wasn’t the best looking, but he wasn’t awful either. He had scruffy, dirty blonde hair that was rarely brushed or styled. He had a goofy grin which drew an appropriate amount of attention to his cheeky blue eyes. He never wore anything too funky, aside from the luminous yellow trainers he was obsessed with. Adara certainly wasn’t attracted to him, not that she had ever been attracted to anyone, but she viewed him more like a brother, and she reckoned he felt the same way.

As James blabbered on about something or other, she eyed a white van driving past. She frowned, she felt like she had only seen that van five minutes ago. Adara was suspicious, she would be stupid not to be, but there were many explanations to way two identical white vans were nearby. It wasn’t it was very distinct looking, white vans all tended to look very similar. However, to be on the safe side, she looked and memorised its number plate.

“If we’re lucky,” James went on, “we could probably get back to the home just before six, Lillian won’t notice a thing.”

 

“She will,” said Adara, “she wakes up at half five every day and checks to make sure everyone else is asleep before she goes back to sleep for another hour.”

James looked at her, “how do you know that.”

 

“I wake up early,” she shrugged.

“You do,” James looked at her, “Why were you awake when I walked in? It was half one in the morning, I thought I’d have to wake you up.”

 

“Couldn’t sleep,” came another one of her vague answers.

“You’re always awake at ridiculous times,” pointed out James, “but you never seem tired.”

 

She had stopped listening, her eyes narrowing as the same white van with the same number plate drove past. She watched until it had drove down the entire street and had turned the corner, when she grabbed James’ arm.

“That van has drove past us three times in the past five minutes,” she said to him.

“What?” He looked around, “are you sure you’re not just being paranoid?”

“I’m sure,” she glanced behind him, eying up the road with suspicion.

“We’re just two kids,” worry grew on his face, “Oh, God. What if they’re undercover cops?”

Adara knew better than that, and shoved both of her hands in her pockets, feeling the blades of the knives she had brought with her. She hadn’t been expecting a fight, but she was ready for it. Three times she had seen the van, and it was the middle of the night with no one else around. 

“Je n'aime pas ça,” she muttered to herself, “pas du tout.”

Whilst he didn’t speak great french, it didn’t take James a lot of work to figure out what she was saying. “Yeah, I don’t like this either.”

Adara glanced at him, “It’s not the police.”

“Who is it then?”

She frowned, pursing her lips as she spotted the white van coming round the corner for a second time, this time drawing to a halt. She pulled James into a nearby alley, the two crouching behind a dumpster as she got out her weapons. He frowned at her.

“Are you crazy, you can’t stab them!”

“It would be in self-defence,” she said, “I know what I am doing.”

 

“Do you?” He asked incredulously, “you’re thirteen and you can shape-shift, the best you can do is hide.”

“Too late, they’ve already seen me. Meaning they’ll be able to find me even if I did change.”

 

“How?”

“The eyes, they’ll see my eyes!”

 

“How would they know to even look at the eyes?”

“They’ll just know!”

 

“How?”

Adara froze, they’d been shouting something that would sound very nonsensical an outside, but made perfect sense to them. Sadly, it was also loud enough to draw the attention to who ever was inside the van. 

She shoved James in the side, “go, quick,” she muttered, “I’ll be right behind you.”

“You’re not gonna fight them?” He whispered back, watching the van brake to a stop next the sidewalk. 

“Je serai juste derrière toi,” she repeated in french, “just go.”

James didn’t wait a second longer and scrambled away from the sidewalk, further into the alley and over a chain link fence until he was out of sight. Adara watched the men in the van get out. She estimated there were around five, all of them fairly tough looking but none she recognised. Each one had guns though she wondered whether they’d use them or not. She took off her jacket, giving her more room to move.

Her grip on the knives tightened as their footsteps got closer.

“I heard voices coming from down here,” said one with a particularly thick Brooklyn accent.

“Don’t use guns unless absolutely necessary,” ordered one man, who sounded like the leader, “it’s best if we keep this quiet. Split up, find the girl, get rid of any witnesses.”

 

She pressed her back against the dumpster, holding her breath.

“Yes, sir.” Said another one of the men.

The talking stopped, replaced by the heavy sounds of boots against the sidewalk. Biting her lip, she propped herself up so she was on the balls of her feet, ready to attack. Footsteps were approaching down the alleyway, she had just a few more seconds to figure out a plan.

A large, muscular man in a white t-shirt appeared, walking straight past the dumpster and towards the chain-link fence James had jumped over. His back was towards Adara.

Remaining as calm and as quiet as possible, she slunk towards him, one knife in her left hand and the other in her right hand. 

And, just before he could notice that anyone was behind him, she dug one knife into his head and one into his neck, the last noise he made was a spluttering gargle before she violently ripped them back out from his body, not bothering to look at what she had done. 

Turning around, she realised that she had not got the attention of all the men yet, but one of them had spotted her at the exact same and called out to the attention of the other three men with him.

Adara was well trained, but was still a thirteen-year-old and had little chance of being able to defend herself from three, full-grown men. However, whilst she wasn’t exactly able to defend herself, it didn’t mean she couldn’t perform a more offensive attack.

Before any of the other men were able to help, Adara had rushed forward, knife in hand, and had moved to stab him. She grabbed her wrist, stopping her, but she maneuvered with her other hand holding the other other knife to jab him in the head with the hilt. It didn’t knock him out, but it definitely dazed him. That gave her enough time to free her other wrist and jab him in the stomach with the knife.

As he crumpled to the ground, another man came running at her. Without much time to plan, she threw the knife precisely at his neck, and it dug into his throat. A not very pretty sight. She ran back over to him, pulling the knife out of his neck.

Just as she turned around, one of the other men jumped her, knocking her to the ground. He attempted to grab her from behind, but she landed a solid kick to his gut, satisfied at the grunt he made. She got back to his feet, only to find that she was held back by another strong pair of arms.

“Merde!” She swore loudly, struggling to get out of his grip as the man wrestled the knives out of her hands.

At this point, the second man had recovered and was moving to completely hold her down. She physically growled in protest to this, and elbowed the man behind her. It made his hold relaxed, causing her to drop to the floor with a thump. 

She was quick to slide away from the two men, pushing herself to her feet with a lot of effort. The other two men came barreling towards her, leaving her without a chance to comprehend what was happening before she was knocked to the floor, causing her to drop one of her knives.

One of the men was on top of her, holding her down. Adara fought back. Holding the remaining knife she had in both of her hands, she kicked the guy in the stomach and jabbed him in the throat.

She rolled him off of him and struggled to stand, exhaustion weighing down on her!

Bam!

Adara let out a yelp of pain as she felt a bullet hit her left shoulder. She doubled over in pain, gripping the injury. If she ever got out of this situation, that was going to take a lot of explaining.

She cursed herself for being such an idiot and forgetting about the other man. He was approaching her now, glowering down at her.

“Give up,” he snarled, “you’re coming with me.”

 

She glared back defiantly, adjusting her grip on her remaining knife and readying her uninjured arm to attack. It was useless, he had the upper hand.

“I won’t,” she growled, her french accent becoming even more prominent than before, “I will never return to HYDRA.”

“You don’t have a choice, Adara,” the man gripped, cocking the gun, ready to shoot again, “you’ve been gone a long time. General Luka will be happy to see you.”

She flinched at his words but steadied herself. “I don’t think so.”

...

The moment he had heard the gunshot, Stark knew exactly where to go. He had flown ahead of Steve and Natasha to the alley where the bullet had went off, only to find a horrifying sight. There were around five men and one girl. However, three of these men were lying on the ground, bleeding out on the floor and dying. One of these other men was leaning against the alley wall, bleeding profusely from his stomach.

The two people remaining were facing each other, like some kind of Mexican standoff. The one man remaining standing was holding the gun, pointing it towards the girl, who was holding a knife in her right hand whilst her left arm swung limply at her side. Tony instantly noticed the red stain on her white t-shirt, as well as a hole in the clothing that was around the size of a bullet. She had been shot. 

“JARVIS,” he muttered, “give me a scan on these guys.”

 

“All of these men appear to be the HYDRA agents you were originally trying to track down.”

Tony was taken back, “what happened to them?”

“An analysis of each of their injuries shows that they were stabbed,” came the AI’s reply, “two are already dead, two are slowly bleeding out. Only one remains in a healthy condition.”

“Who is he?”

“Jack Rollins, a former member of the SHIELD strike team during the HYDRA uprising. He was taken into custody, but escaped along with several other HYDRA members.”

“Yeah,” muttered Tony, “well, I’ll be more than happy to lock him and his ugly mug in a cell again.”

Then, Tony realised something. If the other agents had been killed or injured by stab wounds, who had stabbed them? The answer was obvious, it was the girl. She was holding a knife, had blood that didn’t seem to be hers splattered onto her face, as well as having hands that had been dyed red. He had little doubt that it had been done in self-defence, but it didn’t stop the shock he felt at knowing that this teenager somehow managed to attack and kill several of these men.

“Do we have any reading on the girl?” He asked.

“She has no criminal record,” JARVIS informed him, “and there is no information about her online.”

“Are you kidding?” Tony took another cautious glance at the standoff going on down below, “she’s a teenager, she must at least have an instagram or something.”

 

“My apologies, sir, but there is nothing.”

 

“Okay,” he breathed, “I’ll ask her myself.”

He lowered himself to the ground, the metal impacting on the floor made sure that both knew he was here. They turned to look at him. The guy’s face remained incredibly stoic and did not change when he saw the Iron Man. The girl, however, looked more like a startled deer caught in the headlight of an oncoming car.

“Tony Stark,” said Jack Rollins in greeting, “come to arrest me?”

“Yep,” he said, aiming a blast at him, “you and your buddies.”

 

“Do it then,” he cocked the gun and pointed it at the girl’s head, “and I’ll shoot.”

 

Tony was almost shocked that the girl had hardly no reaction to this at all. When it was pointed at her face, she regarded it with a vague sort of interest, before turning her eyes back to Tony, as though judging him.

Tony wasn’t a big fan of being judged by a teenager. Nor was he a big fan of letting a madman shoot the said teenager in the head.

“Put down the weapon,” said Tony, “we can come to an arrangement, i’m sure.”

Obviously his tone wasn’t that convincing, because the man just laughed.

“You don’t fool me, Stark,” he said with a snarl, “I know the moment I lower this gun you will just arrest me. I am no idiot.”

‘Great.’ thought Tony, ‘now I’m in the standoff.’

“What do you want then?” He asked, tone annoyed.

“Let me go,” ordered Rollins, “with the girl.”

 

“No can do, Dutch,” Tony said, “sorry.”

Then, from around the corner, appeared Natasha and Steve. Each was wearing their full suits and were very surprised, but equally horrified at the sight.

Steve instantly recognised Rollins. “Rollins,” he said, “you were a member of the SHIELD strike team. I thought they’d captured you.”

“They did,” Rollins turned to face Steve, sadistic grin on his face, “but they couldn’t hold me back. You can’t stop Hydra, Rogers, cut off one head and-”

 

“Two more shall take its place,” Tony moved to intervene, “yeah, we get it.”

Adara, in the time being, no longer had the attention on her. His gun was still pointed in her direction, but his back was to her. As quietly as possible, she began to slip away, eying up her one blockade: the chain link fence. Rollins’ attention was off of her for now. She reckoned she could probably leg it to the fence and start to climb over before he noticed and started shooting. If she was lucky, the Avengers might help her, but a part of her was unsure. 

As the talk went on, she slowly moved away from the gun.

The infamous Black Widow seemed to notice.

“How did you escape?” She asked, almost as a distraction.

Rollins grinned, “all down to good strategy, Romanoff, I wouldn’t tell you, just in case I need to use it again.”

Adara moved backwards but, even as she drew closer to it, there was no gap in the fense she could squeeze through. The moment she attempted to climb, all hell would break loose.

“You honestly think you can get out of this situation alive?” Asked Natasha, arms crossed.

“No,” said the man, “I’m a dead man either way, I’m not fool.”

Adara placed a hand on the fence, testing its strength but unwilling to turn her back on Rollins. She knew how vulnerable that would make her. 

“You won’t be a dead man if you come with us,” Steve said, “just drop the weapon and come with us peacefully, no one needs to get hurt.”

Adara reckoned at this point, both Captain America and Iron Man had noticed her sneaking away.

 

“It’s too late for that, Rogers,” he sneered, “she has already-” he gestured to the spot where Adara had been standing, simultaneously turning around to look at her only to pause when she realised she was gone.

A lot of things happened at the same time.

Adara swiftly scrambled up the fence. A gunshot went off. There was a loud grunt as two people hit the ground. And, the sound of a blast coming from the Iron Man suit.

However, Adara had little interest in sticking around and, in the moment of adrenaline, her pain was forgotten and she sprinted for her life.

What had actually happened was that Steve had shoved Rollins to the floor the moment he had fired the gun, meaning Tony had just missed blasting the HYDRA agent’s ear off by a millimeter. The two were on the floor now and, due to Steve’s superior strength, he had easily wrestled the gun out of his hand and threw it to Natasha.

With Rollins unarmed and almost apprehended, Stark turned his attention to the girl, who had just vanished round the corner.

“I’ll get her,” he said, knowing that the other two could easily handle Rollins.

He quickly flew off, following the path of the alleyway. It turned out that, beyond the chain link fence, there were a long path of alleyways that worked as the ‘backyard’ of sorts to restaurants and apartment buildings where it seemed that most rubbish was dumped. It was a hive of homelessness, overwhelmed by the stench of weed and general claustrophobia. It didn’t take Stark long to find Adara.

She was running through the alleyway and, much to Tony’s surprise, didn’t seem to be too injured by the bullet in her shoulder. The again, he supposed, the girl’s body was pumping with adrenaline and was probably on the verge of collapse.

He dropped down right in front of her. She stopped running when he blocked her path, and her eyes instantly narrowed, looking him up and down. Tony was subjected to the dismissive scrutiny of a teenage girl. Then, decisively, she pointed the knife towards him.

“Seriously?” He looked at her, “you really think that you can threaten me with that?”

“Are you here to arrest me, Mr Stark?” She asked and Tony was surprised to hear a strong, French accent in her voice. “It doesn’t take a genius like you to figure out that I killed those men.”

“Was it in self-defence?” He asked.

“Oui,” she nodded.

“And you’re French.” He inquired.

She didn’t answer, just glared at him.

“I’m not here to arrest you, kid,” he said slowly, “I just need to know what you were doing with the HYDRA agents. What did they want with you? Who are you?”

She eyed him up for what felt like the hundredth time and did not reply. Then, before Tony could say anything else, Steve appeared.

“We’ve got Rollins tied up along with any other…” He trailed off, looking at Adara as he tried to find the right words, “survivors…”

Adara’s gaze shifted from Tony to Steve, eying him up with an equal amount of suspicion. Steve looked just as uncomfortable but, nevertheless, approached the girl slowly.

“You’re pretty badly injured,” he said, “you need to get that checked out.”

 

She glanced at it, almost as though she had only just really registered it.

“I’m fine,” she said.

Tony, despite the fact he was in his suit and his expression wasn’t visible, sent the super-soldier and incredulous look, wondering whether this girl was kidding or not. Adara looked dead-serious and fairly stoic despite the fact she was bleeding profusely. 

“You’re not fine,” insisted Steve, his tone a lot nicer that Tony’s had been, “you were shot in the shoulder. We can take you back to the tower, we have some really good doctors there who know how to deal with this. If-”

 

But the girl had backed away, now locking Steve with a poisonous glare, a big hint that he had done very little to get her to start talking.

“Éloigne-toi de moi,” she spat at them, “Je ne viendrai pas avec toi. Vous êtes aussi mauvais que HYDRA. Je préfèrerais mourir.”

Her sentences her short, sharp, rapid and said with a venomous intensity that neither Tony or Steve could understand. It was obvious that French was her native tongue, not only was she far more confident when speaking it, her sentences also came out fluidly and expressed more emotion than she could in english.

“We’re just trying to help, kid,” Tony said, feeling exhausted.

“C'est ce qu'ils disent tous,” she shook her head.

Whilst neither knew the specifics, they got the general idea.

“I know you don’t trust us,” Steve said, “but if you just talk to us in a way we understand then we can sort this out quicker, okay?”

The girl did not seem comforted. “Je vais parler comme je veux autour de la vermine comme vous.”

Neither Tony or Steve could make even a remote guess to what that meant, but then Natasha appeared.

“Je ne te demande pas de parler anglais,” Natasha said slowly, “parler en français, mais au moins parler a propos de toi.”

Adara eyed her up “je ne peux pas.” (I cannot).

“Pourquoi?”

“je ne te fais pas confiance.” (I do not trust you).

Natasha nodded, “peux-tu me dire ton nom?” (can you tell me your name?).

After a few seconds which felt more like hours, Adara relaxed slightly.

“My name is Adara Thomas,” she switched back to English.

Steve was the first to notice how pale the girl was becoming, not to mention the fact that she now had a hand pressed against her wound, with her teeth gritted in an attempt to numb the pain. Despite this, he knew it would be stupid to interrupt now that Natasha had really got the girl talking.

“How old are you?” Asked Natasha gently, which took both Steve and Tony off-guard because they were used to more sharp, witty quips from her.

Adara seemed a lot more relaxed around Natasha, and Steve wondered whether that was because she was less intimidating (which he doubted because Natasha was scary as hell) or because she was able to speak French, which was a strange thing to trust someone for.

“Thirteen,” said the girl, but her voice was higher-pitched.

Steve realised that this was most likely because the adrenaline had flooded out of her and she was now really beginning to feel the pain.

“Okay, Adara,” said Natasha slowly, “listen to me. I can help you, you don’t have to trust me, but we’re going to need to do something about the bullet in your shoulder.”

 

Adara seemed to have spaced out, her mouth had turned into a frown and her eyebrows were furrowed as she concentrated on the wall behind Natasha.

“Okay, heads up,” Tony said suddenly, “she’s gonna go.”

And, just as he said, Tony’s words proved to be true as the pain overwhelmed her and Adara was out like a light.


	3. Chapter 3

The little girl stared into space, expression completely blank and her voice completely silent. She was no longer the girl who had been covered in blood and dust after witnessing her parents get murdered. Adara Thomas was two years older now, being eight and a lot had changed. Her hair had grown longer, her skin was no longer smooth but dotted in bruises and scars. She was a lot skinnier than before, unnaturally skinny. She stood up straight in the centre of the room, being one of three other people in the room.

“Answer my questions in English,” said one of her many instructors.

She hardly gave any sign that she had heard him.

“когда был создан Советский Союз?” He asked.

“Nineteen-twenty-two,” answered the girl in fluent English, though her accent still held strong.

“Какова дата распада Советского Союза?”

“The twenty sixth of December, nineteen-ninety-one,” the girl answered as rapidly and as clearly as before.

“кто Сталин?”

“Josef Stalin was Soviet revolutionary who Governed the Soviet Union from the mid-1920s until his death in 1953.”

The man who had been asking the questions, turned to another man sitting at the back of the room, observing the scene. 

“General Luka,” said the man, “the girl is now fluent in four languages and is perfectly capable of understanding Russian.”

General Luka contemplated this, “she’s making quicker progress than I thought, though I want her able to speak Russian by the end of this month, understand? You may leave.”

“Yes, sir.” Said the instructor, before quickly hurrying out the room.

Once he was gone, Luka turned to Adara, who was still standing motionless in the corner, looking at the wall with a face devoid of any kind of feelings or emotions. He watched her for a moment before talking, approaching her as he did so.

“Are you proud, Adara?” He asked, “you’ve made significant progress in the past two years in your teachings and your combat training. I believe it is time.”

Her gaze slowly shifted to him, though she did her best to remain impassive.

“Yes,” he mused, “next month I think, we can begin the trial.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and she did her very best to not recoil in disgust.

“You better not fail me, Adara.”

...

When Adara jolted awake from her nightmare, it took her less than half a second to register that something was very, very wrong. She was no longer lying on the top bunk of her bed in the foster home but instead was on a much more comfortable bed with white sheets and a lot of space. 

Adara, unlike most nights, had no way of relaxing or calming herself down as panic ate away at her. The HYDRA agents in the alley. Getting shot in the shoulder. The Avengers.

Surprisingly, she felt most uncomfortable with the lack of her notebook. She would, without fail, write something in there everyday after she woke up. From one sentence entries to pages and pages of writing, it had become a strange sort of comfort for her after her escape. With it gone, she could find no way of properly being able to calm down after her nightmare.

It took her a couple more seconds to register that there was someone else in the room.

“You talk in your sleep,” said Tony Stark, looking down at her from his position of leaning against a wall.

“Where am I?” Adara demanded to know, not in the mood for small talk.

“Avengers Tower,” said the billionaire, “and your welcome, by the way, for getting the bullet out your shoulder and healing you.”

She blinked, before pulling down her t-shirt, the same white one she had been wearing the night before, and examining the wound. There was a silvery, white, round scar in the place where the bullet had been and she felt a distant ache when she rolled it. Other than that, it was easy to forget she had been shot in the first place.

She didn’t bother thanking him. “You healed me?”

“No, he didn’t,” interrupted a new voice, “Helen Cho and I worked on your wound, don’t let Tony take the credit.”

He was a soft looking middle-aged man with curly hair and a gentle smile. He was looking at a computer screen whilst wearing glasses, only glancing up when Tony had started talking.

Adara had a lot of questions on her mind, but said the one that was bugging her the most. “You were watching me sleep?” She asked, question directed at both of them.

Tony shrugged, “I just walked in here to talk to Bruce. Actually, it’s been Steve who’s been checking up on you most. Natasha too, though I don’t think she’ll ever admit it.”

“I’m just a doctor,” send Bruce, raising his hands defensively.

Adara eyed the both, suspicious but not yet finding any reason to be afraid or angry. But her dream still had her slightly on edge. Steve Rogers was Captain America and Natasha Romanoff was the Black Widow. She knew that much.

“How long was I out?”

“Around a day. Maybe a little longer.” Bruce did the maths in his head, “you were knocked out about half one in the morning yesterday, now it’s half past six in the morning today.”

Adara licked her dry lips, absorbing the information and marvelling at how fast she had been healed.

“And the HYDRA agents?”

“Two dead. One in critical condition and being worked on by doctors at a heavily fortified hospital. One in military custody, being healed; he’ll live. Lastly, there’s Jack Rollins who is currently being interrogated by the Secretary of Defence.” Tony said, looking at her, “any more questions?”

“Plenty,” she replied shortly.

“Well, tough luck, kid,” he shrugged, “because I have a few questions for you myself. And, hopefully, you’ll be gracious enough to give us an answer.”

The man’s snarky attitude was really beginning to annoy Adara, but she frowned and concentrated on him, doing her best to ignore the more smug aspects of his personality.

“I’ll do my best,” she said.

“So, we got your name, Adara Thomas, and you told us you were thirteen.” Tony looked at her for confirmation.

She nodded hesitantly.

“Okay,” he turned to one of the screens, “doing a bit more research we found out that you’re an orphan living in a foster homes in Queens. You were found after living homeless on the streets. Parents unknown and presumed dead.”

Bruce sighed, “you could be a little less blunt about it, Tony.”

He ignored this, “however, something here doesn’t add up. You’re French. You have a strong accent and English obviously isn’t your first language.”

“I was born in France,” she said.

“How did you end homeless on the streets on New York?” He gave her an incredulous look, “hell, how did you even end up in America?”

She glanced at the bed sheets, messing with a lose thread.

“See, your file also said that you were uncooperative when answering questions,” Tony told her pointedly, “but we’re gonna need answers, kid. What the hell does HYDRA want with you? No offence, but you’re just some kid.”

“Tony,” came a stern voice.

The billionaire just rolled his eyes.

“There’s a better way of going about this then interrogating a kid who has just woke up,” said Steve Rogers, entering the room, “give her a chance to relax.”

Despite the blonde man’s obvious attempt to diffuse, the situation, Adara glared at him with an equal amount of suspicion that she had given to the other two men before her. 

“I need to get back to the foster home,” she said, “I have things there.”

 

And it was true. Adara hated having to leave her few belongings behind. She was thinking about her notebook. What if one of the other girls in her room went rummaging through her stuff and found it. She hadn’t even wrote it in French, so they would easily be able to latch on to what she was talking about.

Tony frowned, “what things?”

“Things,” she said simply, “my things.”

Technically the notebook was one she had stolen from a stationary shop in D.C the day after her escape, but she wasn’t going to bring that up to them now. Strangely enough, she had formed some sort of emotional attachment to the notebook, that and she didn’t want it falling into the wrong hands.

“We told the foster home that you were fine and would be away for a few days,” informed Steve, “apparently, that same night, a friend of years came running back in saying something about getting attacked whilst you were heading out to a party at one am.”

 

Adara was almost taken aback by his tone. He sounded more like a disapproving father than how she had really pictured him to sound.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “we were going off to a party when I noticed that the same van had drove past us three times in five minutes. I told James to get out of there because I knew I could handle them.”

“You obviously couldn’t,” snorted Tony, “you were shot in the shoulder.”

“Yeah,” she smirked, “after stabbing four of them.”

Steve frowned, “that’s not something to be proud of.”

 

“Look,” said Bruce, suddenly interrupting. Adara had almost forgotten he was there. “Whilst all this questioning is great and all, let her get washed and changed. She’s still wearing the clothes she got shot in.”

 

Steve nodded in agreement, standing up a little straighter, “Pepper got you some clothes earlier. Here,” he handed a bag to her. “We’ll leave you alone, bathroom’s over there. After that, we’ll figure out what to do.”

Adara looked at the back, surprised at the fact that she had been given clothing. She shouldn’t really be surprised, but the Avengers were being surprisingly nice to her, considering that she had stabbed and subsequently killed two guys in an alleyway.

“Merci,” she said, slipping back into French on accident.

The three men left and Adara walked into the bathroom. It was far, far larger than the ones in the foster home. The room had a strong black and white aesthetic with a large shower in the corner and a bathtub that looked more like a jacuzzi in the other corner. Behind the sink, there was a large mirror that reflected the rest of the bathroom. 

She put the bag with the clothes down and turned on the shower. Once she had hesitantly gotten undressed, she stepped inside. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed by options for shampoos, conditioner and body washes; how many shower products did one person need? Back at the foster home, it had been shower and bathe when the showers were empty. It wasn’t the most hygenic way of living but the place didn’t exactly have a large budget to go off of.

Once she was washed, she clicked a button and, suddenly, all the steam from the bathroom vanished. She was slightly impressed by this.

“Technologie de Stark,” she muttered to herself before walking over to the bag.

Much to her relief there were a pair of panties and a bra which fit her almost perfectly. She wasn’t ready to question that. She then slipped on the clothing and look at herself in the mirror. Despite the fact that her hair was wet, she looked fairly normal. She was wearing a basic pair of blue skinny jeans along with a white t-shirt with the ‘Levi’s’ logo on it. In all of her life, Adara figured that she had never worn anything as expensive as this in her life. 

Frowning, she tilted her head to the side. Then, sure enough, her hair turned from soaking to its normal state of being dark brown and soft.

“Avantages d'être un shifter de forme,” (benefits of being a shapeshifter) she muttered to herself before leaving the bathroom.

When she walked back in, she got a better vibe of the room she had been sleeping in. The large, white bed she had woken up in was against the wall, its side facing the rest of the room which wasn’t too large. There were a few monitors and computers that were now switched off, but had probably shown important vital readings at some point. 

Adara stood there for a second, unsure of herself, before a woman came bustling into the room. She was korean woman who was around five foot nine, and was wearing doctor’s clothing. She gave Adara a warm smile when she saw her.

“My name is Dr Helen Cho,” she said, “but just call me Helen. I just want to do a quick check up on your injury.”

Adara hesitated before nodding. Oh, yeah, okay.”

 

“May you just pull down your t-shirt so I can see, please?”

Adara did so and found the doctor inspecting her injury. After around thirty seconds of silence, Helen finally pulled away and nodded to Adara.

“You’re perfectly fine,” she said, “you got lucky that the bullet didn’t go too deep.”

 

“Blessé comme l'enfer, though,” muttered Adara, “thanks for healing me.”

It felt strange to be thanking someone. But she supposed it was the right thing to do.

The doctor just smiled again, “Just doing my job,” she said, “I’ll send Steve in when I leave. He wants to talk to you.”

 

“Oh,” Adara bit the inside of her mouth, “okay.”

Helen looked at her, “they’re nice people.”

Adara frowned, “who?”

“The Avengers,” she elaborated, “they’re intimidating when you first meet them. I’ve worked with them for a while now and they still intimidate me sometimes. But, once you get to know them, they’re very human.”

The teenager let out a sad smile, “doesn’t make them good people. Anyone can be human.”

 

She just shook her head, “all I’m saying is, don’t let them scare you.”

And with that, she went bustling out the room again, as quick as she came. Adara rolled her shoulder, feeling a slight twang, but that was all. Satisfied, she moved back to the bed she had been lying on before and inspected her fingernails when she heard Steve walked in. He sat down on the bed beside her, though remained a comfortable distance away.

“I figured this was what you were talking about,” he said, handing her something.

Once she recognised what it was, she snatched it off of him. Her notebook! She felt a little safer now it was back.

“You didn’t read it, did you?” She glared at him accusingly.

He shook his head, “no, I’m not that into invading other people’s privacy. I kept it out of the way of Tony too. We sent Happy down there to pick up some of your stuff from the Foster home whilst you stayed with us. Though, you didn’t have much stuff.”

 

Adara was surprised at this, “stay with you?”

“At least until we can guarantee your safety from HYDRA,” the super soldier told her, “it’s for your protection.”

“je peux me protéger,” she muttered, knowing full well he couldn’t understand, “but I guess I can see the point in it.”

“Look, Adara,” he sighed, “I don’t want to push you into saying something you don’t want to. I’m not going to interrogate you for weeks on end. But, Tony wasn’t kidding when he said that we needed answers because we really do.”

 

“I know,” she said, “but it takes a moment for me to just make up my mind about these things.”

“About what things?”

“About who to trust,” she looked at the notebook and smiled smally, “I know how I can make up my mind. Pass me a pen.”

He did so and she flicked over to the nearest, clean page.

“Don’t read what I’m writing,” she told him, her tone rude.

He shrugged and turned away, “okay.”

She got to writing.

Day 367  
September 21st, 2014

This is getting a little more complicated than I originally thought. I am almost a hundred percent certain that the Avengers have no link to HYDRA whatsoever. They’re a private organisation, they wouldn’t be able to be corrupted.   
The question is whether or not I want to tell them. Helen Cho told me they’re nice people, but that’s not really enough. Then again, they’re offering me protection from HYDRA. I suppose I owe them something.  
They’ve given me clothes, they’ve healed my wound and I’ve just had the best shower ever. If I can get them to properly protect me, they might as well know the full story. I can get the truth out about General Luka, at the least.

Adara stopped writing there, unsure of herself. She glanced back at Steve who wasn’t looking at what she was writing at all and instead was staring off into the distance, contemplating something. He respected the fact that she had asked him not to read what she was writing and Adara rarely got any privacy. There was a reason she usually wrote her daily entry just after midnight. She reckoned that telling them the truth would only benefit her. He was Captain America after all.

He glanced back at her, noticing that she had finished writing. He frowned.

“Is that a diary?” He asked.

She glared back, “no, it’s not a diary.”

He didn’t seem convinced. “What is it then?”

She looked down at the notebook in her hands and contemplated for a moment. If she was going to start telling the truth, it would be a good place to start.

“It’s sort of a way of keeping track of everything,” she said, “been keeping it for just over a year.”

 

“So a diary,” he raised an eyebrow.

She pursed her lips, glowering at the notebook. “I guess you could perceive it as being that. That’s not what I wanted it to be when I started it.”

 

“What did you want it to be then?”

Adara, much to her own surprise, suddenly felt rather embarrassed. Of course, she had started writing it for one reason but that reason had quickly developed into strange sort of emotional dependency. There was a reason she always wrote in it after her nightmares.

“You know how when boats are attacked and the crew goes missing or something, they always have to read the captain’s log to find out what happened to them.” She said randomly.

Steve seemed confused but nodded.

“Well, I kinda figured that I could do something like that,” she said, “just in case I went missing.”

 

“Why would you ever go missing?” He asked, “something to do with HYDRA?”

“I’ve spent,” she did the maths in her head, “around seven years under HYDRA’s control. When I escaped from them year ago, I stole a notebook to sort of keep track of my life. And, just in case they did take me back, someone would be able to find this and read it to figure out who I am, and maybe they could find me.” Adara sighed, “saying it out loud makes me sound stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Steve said gently, “you spent seven years under HYDRA control, you wanted to do anything to prevent going back there.”

Adara adjusted her seating position slightly, so her legs were crossed and notebook pressed close to her chest, for cautionary purposes.

“What about the HYDRA base they kept you in?” He asked and Adara was acutely reminded that this was technically an interrogation. “How did you escape?”

“A bank in D.C, I don’t know the name,” She told him, “after three escape attempts, Pierce wanted me moved closer to where there were more high level HYDRA agents to watch over me. They kept me there for around six months until they also moved the Winter Soldier there too.” Adara didn’t miss the misty look that came over Steve’s eyes as she said the name, “He attacked a lot of the guards one day after just coming out of cyro-freeze, provided the appropriate amount of time for me to escape.”

Adara remembered that day. It was one of the few times she had ever gotten a glimpse at the dreaded Winter Soldier. He had been muscular, angry and not someone she would ever want to get in the way of. With all the guards preoccupied with taking him down, Adara had made a break for it. Though, she would never forget the strangely haunting look that the assassin had exchanged with her for a couple of brief seconds before she was gone.

 

“And you escaped around a year ago?” Asked Steve, rousing her from her memories.

“Almost exactly a year ago,” she nodded, “around six months before the fall of SHIELD.”

 

“And you were with them for seven years?”

“Basically,” she suddenly found the loose threads on her jeans very interesting.

“That means you should’ve been six when you were first taken in.”

“Oui,” she stared down at her hands, noticing how long her nails were now. She should probably cut them. That, or grow them so long they were like cat claws. That would be funny, she thought.

“Why would they take you in so young?” He mused, “what use was a six-year-old to them?”

“Je ne sais pas,” she lied before repeating the lie again in English, “I don’t know.”

Steve, however, seemed to be better at reading her than she’d given him credit for. “Adara, you can talk to us, what’s the worst that could happen?”

She just gave him a long look and he sighed in defeat.

“You’re not going to tell me anything else, are you?” He said.

She shrugged.

Relenting, he stood up. “Okay, that’s fine,” he said, “I’m not going to push you to say something. But it would be helpful if you could give me more answers than that.”

Adara still didn’t say anything, but looked back down at the loose threads, toying with them.

“But, if you’re hungry we could go to the kitchen and get you some food.

Adara honestly hadn’t wanted to come off as so keen, but her head had suddenly shot up the moment he had said ‘food,’ so it was too late for that. Steve smiled at her, seeing her reaction.

“Okay,” she said, “food sounds good.”


	4. Chapter 4

Much to Steve’s surprise, Adara had been affronted by the thought of anything more than a piece of toast, but he had refused to let her eat anything less than a bacon sandwich and a bowl of cereal. Luckily, there had been leftover food from breakfast earlier that morning because Steve was a terrible cook. 

She had been hesitant at first, before becoming quickly engrossed in eating and hardly bothered to look up when Steve left the room.

“What’s this?” He asked when he met Tony halfway to the main room, who had then handed him a file.

“Just look at it,” said the billionaire, taking a bite out of an apple. 

He flicked it open, seeing scans of x-rays though, as he wasn’t an expert on human anatomy, he was still confused. “Yeah, I still don’t know what any of it means.”

 

“Look,” Tony said, pointing to several of the scans, “this is an x-ray scan of Adara we did whilst we were healing the bullet wound.” He jabbed his finger at one image showing the bones of a hand, “this shows signs of several fractures on her fingers bones that were never given the chance to full heal. She also has several internal bruised on the ribs and arms. A few scars, most likely caused by a blade along her shoulders and back. I reckon that they probably happened a year ago to three years ago. She could have more, older ones that we haven’t spotted yet.”

Steve frowned, “she’s in there now, eating. There were no obvious signs of injury that I could see.”

 

“Most of them were internal,” Tony said, “Helen said that they were most likely caused by fist-fights and probably knife fights too. Did she give you any insight on that?”

“Well,” he looked at the Stark grimily, “HYDRA has been controlling her since she was six up to around a year ago when she escaped.”

 

“HYDRA?” Stark frowned, “like your best buddy turned assassin?”

Steve shook his head, frowning at the reminder. “No, she shows no sign of brainwashing and she told me she had attempted to escape multiple times.”

“HYDRA is just adding to my pile of problems,” sighed Tony, rubbing his forehead, “this, the sceptre, the fall of SHIELD and your war buddy is going to be knocking ten years off my lifespan. What do you reckon we should do, Cap?”

Steve looked thoughtful for a moment. “I say we keep her here for another week, maybe more if we have to. There’s a lot she isn’t saying, there’s more to this, I know it. Until we can get the full picture of what’s going on.”

 

“Keep her prisoner here?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

“That’s not the way of phrasing it. She’s not a prisoner here, but we’ve just gotta have someone keeping an eye on her. The attack in the alley tells us that HYDRA is on the rise, even without SHIELD to feed off of.”

 

He still looked doubtful, but Tony relented when the blonde shot him a look. “Alright, alright, Capsicle. But for the record, if this teenager breaks any of my stuff, it’s your fault.” He patted the super-soldier on the shoulder good-naturedly and walked off, leaving the file still in Steve’s hands.

Rolling his eyes, Steve turned to walk back to the kitchen, only to hear a strange discussion going on.

When he walked back in, he noticed that Adara, who was halfway through a bowl of cornflakes, had stopped eating to engage in a passionate conversation with a certain red-headed assassin, who was calmly taking sips of water from a glass between talking. Then, Steve suddenly realised why the conversation had seemed so strange. It was because he couldn't understand a word they were saying.

“Je ne sais pas de quoi tu parles,” said Natasha, smirking to herself, “Le russe est facile.”

“Je n'ai jamais dit que c'était difficile,” pointed out Adara, “c'est juste une langue très terne.”

“Le français est aussi une langue terne,” she said, “Je n'allais pas le dire, mais il est.”

Adara shook her head, seemingly agitated over something Steve couldn’t understand. “comment peux tu dire ca? Le français est ma langue maternelle!”

“Le russe est ma langue maternelle, tu te plains de ma langue, je me plaindrai de la tienne.”

“Peu importe,” the teenage dismissively waved a hand, turning back to her cereal, “tu ne save pas de quoi tu parle.”

Steve noticed that Adara spoke with a lot more confidence and emotion in French however, when speaking in English, she tended to fumble over sentences more often and was struggled to communicate what she was really trying to say.

“What are you two arguing about?” He asked, setting the file down on a counter.

“This teenager seems to think Russian in a dull language,” Natasha explained, still sipping on the water, “which is obviously wrong.”

 

Adara shot her a glare, but had a mouth full of cornflakes so she couldn’t say anything.

Instead, Steve sent a surprised look to Adara. “You speak Russian?”

She swallowed the food in her mouth and smiled smugly a little to herself. “I’m fluent in fourteen in a half languages, including French and English.”

“Fourteen and a half,” he repeated, confused.

“My Japanese needs some improvement,” she told him, “and my Bengali too, but I’m better than that than I am at Japanese.”

“Why are you so good at all these languages,” Steve asked curiously.

She stared him dead in the eye. “You could say it’s because I’m a naturally good linguistic, but I reckon it’s more likely because Hydra beat me half to death when it took me four months to learn English. I got quicker from then on.”

Steve looked at her, vaguely horrified, vaguely surprised. Natasha remained neutral.

“Even after I left, I continued to learn language,” she said, finishing off her cereal, “I taught myself Italian, which wasn’t too hard because its a Romance Language, and now I’m trying to start teaching myself Japanese, which is going less well.”

“And your fluent in all these languages?” Inquired Natasha with a usual form of disinterest.

“Fluent wouldn’t be the right word,” Adara told them, “I’m fluent in English, French, Spanish and Russian. The rest of them I just sort of know the basics of and could probably translate a sentence if you asked me too, it would un peu difficile though. I’m not gonna lie and say that I can speak Mandarin from the top of my head with ease. But if I thought about it, I could probably write a sentence in it.”

“Go ahead then, say something in Mandarin,” said Natasha.

She just glared at her, “没有.” (No).

Natasha smiled a little, before putting her now empty glass back on the table.

“You enjoy studying language then?” Asked Steve.

The teenager shrugged, “I guess. At first it was kind of a chore, especially with Hydra, but then I realised that everyone needs a hobby.”

 

“So Hydra taught you most of the languages you know?”

“Hydra taught me everything I know,” snorted Adara, “politics, martial arts, self defence, language, maths, science, survival, economics. All of it came from there. Education at the foster home was never the best, they homeschooled some of us and sent some others to some crappy school in the bad parts of Queens. I was homeschooled, considering that I was too much of a late comer to the home for their to be a free placement in a school.”

Steve absorbed this fact for a moment and realised that it wasn’t very acceptable. Adara came off as very intelligent, not a genius but she did seem to have a natural talent for languages. Silently, he thought that she probably needed to go to a better school, with better standards. Maybe he could get Tony to look into that…

“What’s this?” Asked Natasha, who had picked up the file he had left on the counter.

“I was just gonna explain that,” he told her, “pass it over.”

Natasha tossed it to him and he caught it easily. Then he sat down across from Adara, who stopped in the middle of the second bite of her bacon sandwich, looking at the file with mild curiosity. Natasha also came an sat beside Steve so she was also facing the teen, who had now put the sandwich back on her plate.

“Well?” Adara urged him to speak, glancing at the file.

“Helen and Bruce took some x-rays whilst trying to heal the bullet wound when you were unconscious. They also found some other things.”

Now, Adara looked back down at the file with a heightened sense of caution. “Like what?”

“You have broken fingers that were never given the chance to fully heal,” he explained, “scars over your chest and back from knives and internal bruising, especially on the ribs.”

“Yeah,” she shrugged like it didn’t matter, “it’s Hydra, what do you expect? They did it to any of their pathétique experiment subjects. Not just me.”

 

“See, this is what I don’t understand,” he said, “they beat you, they trained you. But for what? Why? Are you enhanced? You don’t have any sort of reputation like the Winter Soldier, not to mention that when the Hydra files were leaked, there was nothing on you.”

 

“They kept me close to their chests,” she sniggered, “I’m one big secret, you know?”

She went back to eating her sandwich, but Steve was unsettled by her lack of reaction. However, after taking two bites and contemplating, she kept talking.

“Pierce didn’t think I was worth it,” she said, “J'étais une perte de temps. Inutile. However, Luka was convinced that if he trained me and beat me enough, I would become attached to Hydra, I’d see what they were doing as right. That, or I think they were going to brainwash me, like they did to the Winter Soldier.”

Steve visibly grimaced at the mention of his old friend, but his thoughts were quickly wrapped up in something else. “Luka?” He said, “that’s not a Hydra name I’m familiar with.”

 

He glanced at Natasha, who had remained surprisingly silent, who shrugged.

“Never heard it.”

 

“Is this him?” Asked Tony, who had suddenly walked into the room without them noticing, making everyone but Natasha jump.

He placed down his phone, an the blue tinged hologram of a man in his mid-thirties appeared, a picture of him in U.S army uniform, his face serious. He had a well trimmed black hair, neatly shaved stubble, cold, green eyes and the slightest hint of a smirk, despite the fact he was trying to be more business-like. Steve didn’t miss the way that Adara’s lip curled up in hatred and disgust.

“Damian George Luka, the previous General of the Army as well as previously having close ties with SHIELD and business going on there.”

Steve tilted his head to the side, thinking that he did look familiar.

“Went under several interrogations about whether or not he had connections with Hydra,” Stark went on, “but when no ties were found, he was released.” Tony glanced at Adara, “is that him?”

The narrowed eyes and hate-filled glance gave them all the answer.

“Come to think about it,” said Steve, “I think I might’ve spoken to him on one or two occasions, before the fall of SHIELD. He told me he would’ve wanted to spend more time in D.C, but often had business in Sokovia or Siberia. Didn’t think that much of it at the time, he came off as a respected man.”

“I’ll never respect bâtards like him,” spat Adara suddenly, her French accent becoming clearer with the hatred.

All three adults turned to look at her.

“The reason he traveled to Siberia and Sokovia a lot was because he was heading my experiment, and those were the two bases I was kept at. They would switch between the two. That was up until they moved me to D.C. Haven’t seen him since then. Dirty little connard got off scot-free.”

“And he’s a member of Hydra?” Tony double-checked.

“Always has been, always will be.”

As Tony got rid of the hologram of Luka, Steve noticed Adara instantly relaxing.

“Can we arrest him?” He asked generally to anyone.

Natasha seemed unsure, “don’t get your hopes up, the only evidence is her,” she gestured to Adara, “and one witness isn’t enough proof.”

The teenager blinked, “why not?” She demanded, “why am I not enough proof?”

“Because,” sighed Natasha, “despite the fact that the whole world will believe you, there’s likely no proof that Luka was linked to any of the crimes he commited. Hell, there’s probably no sign that he ever did commit a crime.”

 

“I’ll give you proof of his crimes!” The teenager stood up suddenly, green eyes blazing, “there’s a small little cottage near the French Alps, tucked away and hidden in a nice little valley.” You know what’s in that house?” She was standing up now, bacon sandwich forgotten, “Two rotting corpses hidden under the floorboards of the people who I once called my parents!”

Silence followed the exclamation and Adara blinked, looking at her own hands which were palm down on the table. She looked at them for awhile abruptly kicking her chair and leaving the room.

Steve moved to follow her, but Natasha stopped him.

“Give her an hour or two,” Natasha said, “she’s spent the majority of her life being controlled by the man who killed her parents. She hasn’t had any time to properly handle the grief. I imagine this is the first time she’s ever had an outburst over it.”

Steve looked at her, asking softly, “how do you know?”

“I just know, okay?” She said, “I’ll talk to her in a couple of hours.”

 

...

 

When the dust cleared she looked at the two bodies in front of her. The bodies of her parents, the two people who she had cared about the most in the world were gone.

Blood everywhere.

Dust clinging to her skin.

Knees covered in scrapes and mud.

Adara hated the silence, it always did a good job of bringing back thoughts that she would never want to think about. She couldn’t understand how others did it, how they suppressed painful memories. Adara wanted to try so hard to push down the violent images and reminders that would often pop up in her brain from time to time. It never worked. Luka would often beat her for wearing her heart on her sleeve, but then encourage her to use her anger to help defeat opponents. So the mixed messages she had been raised on had never helped either.

She pressed her forehead against the window. Looking out onto the streets below. She had somehow found herself sitting with her arms wrapped around her legs in a small room with a large window, allowing an impressive view of the city around her. New York was so big, it looked even larger from up here. When she lived in Queens, she had never really been able to go up the high-rise buildings in Manhattan to get the full scope of everything. Here in Avengers Tower, the view stretched on for miles and miles and showed the same, concrete skyscrapers that touched the clouds and dominated the skyline.

She let her mind wonder, not really focusing on the view. What was James doing right now? Was he worried about her? Or was he smoking pot? She had been fine in the foster home. Sure, it had never been the most functional way to live a life, but at least she was never stuck under the constant barrage of questions that she was here. At least there her memories only haunted her at night.

“And then Hydra came and screwed it all up,” she muttered to herself softly, “wouldn’t be the first time.”

Adara had killed men that night in the alleyway. Two to be exact. She felt nothing, she should’ve felt something but she couldn’t. She didn’t care enough, nor did she feel any kind of compassion or sympathy towards anyone in Hydra. She even struggled to feel sympathy for the Winter Soldier, despite the fact that she had witnessed him getting brainwashed multiple times. 

She heard someone else enter the room.

“Go away,” she said, acutely aware of how much of a moody teenager she was being.

The person, whoever they were, ignored the order and sat down beside her. In the corner of her vision, Adara caught a glimpse of the recognisable red hair of Natasha Romanoff.

“What?” She snapped grumpily.

“Am I not allowed to look out the window?” Asked the assassin, voice flat, not even glancing in Adara’s direction.

“Not when I’m here,” she told her.

Natasha smirked slightly but said nothing more.

“What are you doing here anyway? To make sure I’m okay?” Adara added that last part mockingly.

“I’m not the idiot you seem to take me for, Adara,” Natasha said, “I’m not here to make sure everything is okay because I’m not blind. Sorry to break this to you,” she began, not sounding sorry at all, “but things are probably never going to be ‘okay’ for you, not after everything you’ve been through.”

“Your comforting skills could do with some improvement,” the teenager turned back to staring out the window and drummed her fingers on her knee, a nervous twitch.

“I’m not here to comfort you,” the redhead said bluntly, “I’m not here to rub your back and tell you that ‘it’ll get better soon.’ It never gets better, I think even people like Steve and Tony know that, even though they’ll never say it.”

“What do you mean?”

 

“Steve was frozen in ice for nearly seventy years, leaving everything he knew behind, and Tony flew a missile through a wormhole, it really messed him up.”

 

“They were doing the right thing,” pointed out Adara, “sure, it sucks that it happened to them, but at least they have the comfort of knowing they were doing the right thing. I didn’t.”

“Neither did I,” said Natasha.

Adara glanced back at her, surprised to see that the assassin was looking straight at her. Her hazel-green eyes didn’t seem particularly sad, nor were they in a dream-like trance as she remembered her past. In fact, they remained cold and steely, as did her voice as she spoke.

“I was born in Russia, Stalingrad. I was an orphan, my parents died when I was young, I can hardly remember them at all.”

 

Adara frowned, listening closely but not interrupting.

“I was recruited by the KGB and was trained at a Red Room facility. Trained to be the perfect assassin,” she laughed to herself, “it was a nightmare. I was a nightmare. I became a famous assassin and, when SHIELD found out about me, Fury wanted me dead instantly.”

“But?” Adara lazily raised an eyebrow.

“But he sent out Barton to do the dirty work. But he disobeyed his mission, must’ve seen something in me. If it weren’t for him, I don’t think I would be here today.”

“Barton?” she frowned.

“Hawkeye, as you know him better as.”

 

“I don’t understand,” the teen said honestly, “how do you do that? Just join SHIELD, forget about the KGB and Russia.”

 

“You’re missing the point,” she sighed, “I never forgot about the KGB. Even if I wanted to, the red in my ledger is always there, reminding me of what I’ve done. You should never forget about what happened, you just need to cope with it.”

“Are you asking me to deal with it?”

“In a way,” Natasha shrugged, “that’s what I do anyway. I’m not the best for advice, you should probably go to Steve for that.”

 

Adara looked at her but said nothing.

“But Steve is never really going to understand anything you’ve been through.”

“And you will?” The teen asked.

“I’m the closest you’re probably ever gonna get.” The redhead said.

The two sat in silence for a bit. There was no tension and there was no uncomfortableness. They just sat there for a while, watching the world outside the window. It was the calmest moment Adara had had in a long time, this time there were no memories or flashbacks to deal with. Maybe it got easier with other people around.

“Does it get easier?” She asked.

“A little,” Natasha said, “I was older than you when Clint found me. A lot older and a lot colder. My entire life was the KGB. I can’t even remember my parents.”

“Oh…” Adara frowned, “but you’re okay now, right?”

“It never really goes away, Adara,” she said, “you can put a smile on your face. Try to do something better. Even the nightmares will stop eventually. But the memories never really go away.”

“Comforting,” she snorted.

“I was at the edge of hell, Clint pulled me back,” Natasha took a long look at the teenager, “who’s gonna pull you back?”

“I don’t know,” Adara replied softly, letting the silence fall between them again.

Adara thought for a moment, leaning back against the wall. She had always had people at the foster home to talk to. James was there. Despite the fact that she knew that he was using her to steal for him, she had relied on him. He had always fairly split the profits of the money he made between them anyway. Madame Lillian, the caretaker, had always been ready and willing to listen to people’s problems too. She was a kindly, old woman, who was well respected by all the kids, even Adara herself.

Yet, Adara had never gathered up the courage to speak to either of them about what had happened. Lillian would’ve never understood and James probably wouldn’t know what to say. Plus, Adara hadn’t wanted to talk about it. When Lillian had asked where she had come from, she had given vague answers. When James asked how she had got her powers, her answers were even more vague.

It had scared her. Still did now.

But Steve had told her that they wanted to protect her. They at least deserved to know the full context.

“By the time I was born, my parents already had enough money. So they quit their jobs and moved back to France,” she said, “I didn’t know what their jobs were before I was born. They never told me. I only learnt a few years ago, when Luka told me.”

Natasha remained respectfully silent.

“My father was born in America, but had relatives in France.” She explained, “so he would move back and forth between each country. He met my mother in France and, the two got together and moved to America, they got a job at SHIELD.”

 

“What were their names?” Asked Natasha.

“My father’s name was Gregory Martin, my mother’s name was Adelaide Thomas.”

“You took your mother’s surname?” 

“They never got married. But, apparently my mother wanted me to be Martin, but it was my father convinced her otherwise. Instead, Martin is my middle name. Adara Martin Thomas.”

Natasha nodded, remaining quiet.

“My father was an agent and did a lot of travelling because he was good with languages, so Luka told me. My mother, however, was a skilled chemist and worked on experimenting with chemical weapons. That’s when she found out the truth about Hydra.”

Natasha still didn’t interrupt.

“The moment she found out, she also found out that she was two months pregnant with me. So, she and my father moved back to France. A little cottage near the border of Italy. They hid there for six years, then Hydra came.”

“Why did Hydra come?” Asked Natasha, “why not leave you alone?”

“Because Hydra knew that there was going to be something wrong with me. My mother had been working on a chemical whilst at Hydra. A chemical which had involved her experimenting with some kind of knock-off version of the pym particle. Instead, they made something completely different, they called it the Chameleon-particle. It involved not only being able to change size, but also how something looked. It didn’t seem to affect my mother whilst she was working on it, but she was two months pregnant at the time. It affected me instead.”

“How?”

“It started off small at first,” Adara said, “I could change the colour of my hair and eyes and skin. I could grow a little taller and a little shorter. My parents realised this was a side-effect of the experiment, but weren't too worried. Like I said, it wasn’t anything too drastic. Then, Hydra found out.”

“How did they find out?”

 

“My parents had a friend, someone who used to work for SHIELD, an old colleague. He’d been tasked with keeping them hidden. He had come over one day for an annual check-up, and had noticed me using my abilities. Turns out, he’d been working for Hydra the entire time.”

Natasha had a feeling she knew where this was going.

“My parents realised a day too late when General Luka came,” there was a strain in her voice, “he murdered them and took me their base in Siberia. They trained me there for a bit in language and combat. Then Luka decided to increase my powers.” Adara looked down at her hands, “he injected me with the same Chameleon-particle my mother had been working on. The dose was stronger, my powers increased dramatically.”

“What can you do now?” Natasha asked bluntly.

“I can make myself look like anyone I want, no matter what gender. I can grow much taller and shorter, skinnier or fatter. In some cases I can increase my muscle mass so I’m stronger. I can also heal minor wounds on my body like paper-cuts and I might be able to grow back missing limbs, but I’m unwilling to test that at.”

 

“So you can basically transform your entire body,” Natasha said, curious.

“Basically,” she shrugged, “here, I’ll prove it.”

Suddenly, Natasha realised that she wasn’t sitting beside a dark, long-haired teenage girl. Instead, she was sitting beside an almost exact replica of herself, except in the clothes Adara was originally wearing. It was almost unsettling.

“That’s weird,” Natasha remarked, “like looking into a mirror without the mirror.”

 

“Look closer,” said Adara.

Natasha peered closer and was quick to spot it, “the eyes.”

 

Natasha had green eyes. However, they were less vibrant and had a sligh hazel-tint to them. Adara on the other hand had eyes that could only be green an no other colour. There was no hint of blue or brown or grey, just green.

“They never change,” she said, transforming into her normal-looking self, “it’s weird. Hydra did the best to change them, they tried it, but they’re stuck like that.”

“So you’re a shapeshifter,” Natasha stated.

“Yeah, you could call it shapeshifting.” Adara shrugged modestly, “Hydra never really did much with me, I was no assassin like the Winter Soldier. They were training me, perfecting the ability. I spent my entire life inside their bases. Seven years without seeing the sun.”

 

“You’ll never have to go back there,” Natasha said seriously, “we’re the Avengers, we can protect you.”

Adara blinked and fought back the natural instinct to say ‘I don’t need to be protected.’

Instead, she relaxed, and looked straight back into Natasha’s eyes.

“Je serai en sécurité ici?” (I will be safe here?) She asked.

Natasha nodded firmly, “je promets.” (I promise).

In a move that surprised the two of them, Adara had suddenly wrapped her arms tightly around the redheaded assassin. Natasha, take off guard by this, froze for a moment before loosening up. It was scary how much she could see herself in the teenager. It was strange how it was almost instinctual for her to care for the girl.

“Вы будете в безопасности,” she said in Russian, “обещаю.”

And, slowly, she hugged the girl back.

It was the first time Adara had been hugged since she was six years old.


	5. Hidden in Plain Sight

Day 368  
September 22nd, 2014

No nightmares.

Adara had fallen peacefully asleep in a spare room Tony had offered her. It was less of a spare ‘room’ and more of a spare apartment. It was one, large room that had a breathtaking view of New York below and was filled with furniture ranging from a massive king-size bed which made her feel small, to an L-shaped sofa with a too-large tv with controls Adara was yet to figure out. 

When she had woken up the next morning at five o’clock, she was almost unsettled to realise she hadn’t had a nightmare. It had become such a regular thing in her life, that the absence of it created an empty feeling. It was probably a good thing, but it made her uncomfortable.

“Good morning, Miss Thomas,” said a British voice suddenly, “it is fifty degrees fahrenheit this morning with rain forecasted for this afternoon. May I be of any assistance?”

 

Adara had jumped out of her skin and instinctively reached under her bed before she realised that she didn’t exactly have any knives on her. She looked around frantically, attempting to find the source of the voice.

“I am not a person, Miss Thomas,” said the voice, almost amused, “I am Mr Stark’s artificial intelligence system, JARVIS.”

She relaxed slightly, “so I can just speak out loud and you’ll reply.”

 

“Yes.”

“Étrange,” she muttered.

“Is that what you think of me, Miss Thomas?” he said.

“Désolé,” she said, “you startled me, that’s all.”

 

“My apologies.”

 

“Okay,” Adara felt extremely awkward talking to an A.I system, “erm, who else is awake?”

“Everyone else is awake apart from Mr Barton is awake,” JARVIS responded.

“Right,” she said, despite not knowing who ‘everyone else’ was, “where are they?”

“In the kitchen.”

Thanking the A.I system despite the fact that she didn’t really need to polite with it, Adara got out of bed. Natasha had mentioned that a woman named Pepper Potts had bought clothes for her, which was nice. Adara had clothes back at the Foster Home, but she wasn’t at the foster home and they weren’t the best looking clothes either. It was a Foster Home that housed around twenty other kids with limited government funding, money was short. 

She opened the wardrobe, suddenly realising that it was more of a walk-in closet. She didn’t hang about, just picking out a loose-fitting burgundy hoodie and blue jeans. She glanced at herself in the mirror. Adara never really had to be worried about her looks, it was the benefit of having her abilities. If she had a pimple forming on her face, she could easily just change it so her skin was clear. Nose to big? Make it shorter. Gaining weight? Make yourself thinner. Hair a mess? Make it straight. It made her unfavourable life a little easier.

Now it was a matter of figuring out where the kitchen was. The tower was ridiculously and pointlessly large, it made navigating it overly difficult. However, as she wasn’t keen to talk to the British accented A.I again, she had felt awkward enough doing it the first time. 

It took her only two minutes of peering through doors to find it.

“Adara!” Said Tony through a mouth full of cornflakes the moment she walked in, “you’re awake!”

She blinked, “yeah, is that surprising?”

“Apparently most teenagers are lazy and sleep all day,” he shrugged, “that’s what people say.”

“I usually wake up at this time,” she stated simply.

That was a lie. Her nightmares would usually wake her up at the ungodly hours of the morning and falling back asleep was impossible. This was pretty late for her.

“Well, it’s time you met the rest of the team,” Tony clasped his hands together and Adara was a little taken back by the billionaire’s eagerness, “apart from Barton, who’s still asleep.”

“JARVIS,” said Natasha, who was sipping coffee, “wake up Barton and tell him to get his ass down to the kitchen as soon as possible. His fault for staying up all night anyway,” she added that last part in a mutter.

“Sit down, Adara,” said Steve, gesturing to the seat beside him, “breakfast?”

“Not hungry,” she said, taking the seat between Steve and Natasha, feeling a little out of place.

“Tu devrais prendre le petit déjeuner,” (you should eat breakfast) said Natasha, “c'est bon pour toi.” (it’s good for you).

“Manger de la nourriture le matin me rend malade,” (eating food in the morning makes me feel sick) Adara shook off her concern, “I’m fine.”

 

“Okay,” shrugged Natasha, giving up easily.

“Right, let’s go round the table,” said Steve, ready to begin introducing the rest of the Avengers.

He had hardly opened his mouth when Tony interrupted. “You know me, Tony Stark, just call me Tony though. I was the one who saved your life, by the way, the one in the iron suit.”

Adara frowned, “yeah, I know. Uh- thanks.”

 

“No problem,” the man grinned.

“Thank you, Tony,” said Steve, sound slightly annoyed, “I think I’ll do the talking from here.”

 

“Whatever you say, Cap,” he obeyed nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair. Adara carefully observed that, despite the fact that this was his building, it was Steve who was running things.

The blonde man sighed and turned to the man beside Tony, “that’s Dr. Banner, who you’ve already met.”

 

Adara glanced at the kind doctor, who seemed to be a man of few words, as he gave her a small, warm smile before turning back to the newspaper he had been reading. Who even reads newspapers anymore?

“He healed your bullet wound,” the super-soldier went on, “and he’s a genius when it comes to anything scientific.”

 

The man looked humbled, “thanks, Steve.”

“And he can turn into an enormous, green, rage monster,” Tony added pointedly.

Bruce didn’t say anything, just smiled. Steve, on the other hand, was more agitated by this. “Yes, thank you for your contribution there.”

 

So he was the Hulk… Adara tilted her head to the side, gaze lingering on the doctor for a few seconds. He looked as though he would never hurt a fly, so that was sort of surprising to her.

“And that’s Dr Cho,” Steve went on.

“Please, call me Helen,” she said, “how are you, Adara?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” she replied politely.

“Helen isn’t here most of the time, she’s usually working in South Korea. But, she’s in America now,” explained Steve, “she’s currently working with Bruce Banner in her cellular regeneration research. Not that I really know much about that.”

Adara nodded, taking in the information.

“And that’s Rhodey,” Steve said, gesturing to a serious looking, dark skinned man who had left half a piece of toast on his place. Adara frowned at this, at the foster home, you had to eat all your food.

“You can also call him War Machine or Iron Patriot to annoy him,” added Tony.

Rhodey looked annoyed at Stark’s continued added commentary, “please don’t bring that up. And, hello, Adara.”

“Uh- hi,” she said back, trying to remember where she had seen the words ‘war machine’ on the news before.

“This is Sam, over here,” Steve gestured to the man with a wide grin sitting beside Rhodey, “a good friend of mine.”

The man seemed to have an infectious smile and, despite the fact that his mouth was filled with cereal, he talked anyway.

“Sam Wilson,” he said, “I work down at the VA in D.C when I’m not up here,” the man explained further.

“You work in D.C?” She asked curiously, “were you that guy with the wings who fought at the Triskelion?”

“That’s me,” he grinned, “but I prefer Falcon over ‘the guy with the wings,’ thanks.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, smiling for the first time since entering the room.

“And this guy over here is-” Steve was cut off.

“Thor!” Exclaimed Adara, surprising everyone as this was the loudest she had ever been, “désolé, I just have a friend who’s a big fan of you.”

The demi-god was extremely muscular, with flowing blonde hair tied back in a comfortable pony tail and eyes were a bright, shining blue. He was wearing clothes that looked like an attempt to be casual, however, seemed to be wearing a lot of layers leaving Adara to wonder how he wasn’t boiling underneath all that. He had a wide smile on his face, a smile that was much goofier than Sam’s, and was shovelling an incomprehensible amount of poptarts into his face.

“And you must be Lady Adara!” He said in a booming voice, “it is an honour to meet you.”

“You too,” said Adara. Somehow, meeting Thor was a far more exciting experience than any of the other Avengers. Then again, unlike the rest of them, he wasn’t exactly human.

“May I enquire about this ‘big fan’ of mine?” He said, not really understanding what he was saying.

“His name’s James,” she said, “I think you were his man crush.”

 

Thor didn’t seem to understand what ‘man crush’ meant but just beamed at her. Steve looked confused at the concept too. Tony, on the other hand, seemed to find this fact quite humorous.

“I think Thor here is everyone’s man crush,” he said, patting the demi-god’s arm who was still devouring the sickly coloured pop tarts into his mouth. 

“What-” Steve began to ask but, for what was the second time, he was interrupted.

“It is half five in the morning,” a blonde man with sleepy eyes who was wearing a baggy pair of tracksuit bottoms along with a loose fitting t-shirt stumbled into the room, “why did you force JARVIS to wake me up?”

“Because,” said Natasha exhaustively, “we have someone new in the tower.”

 

“Who?” He looked around before spotting Adara, “oh, yeah, the teenager.”

 

“Teenager?” Repeated Adara, directing her glare to Natasha, “is that how you’re describing me to people?”

“That and a shapeshifter,” the redhead shrugged.

“Bon à savoir que tu me regardes comme juste un adolescent qui sait se métamorphoser,” (good to know that you look at me as just some teenager who can shapeshift) she muttered, “my name is Adara.”

“Tu parle français?” (you speak French) The man seemed surprised.

“Je suis Français, tu ne pouvais pas dire de mon accent?” (I am French, you couldn’t tell from my accent?) she replied shortly, “et tu es?”

 

“I’m Clint Barton, or Hawkeye as the media coins me,” he told, “archer extraordinaire.”

“Another SHIELD agent,” said Tony, “like your ginger friend.” He gestured to Natasha, who frowned at being addressed like this. Though, Adara wasn’t sure whether it was ‘ginger’ or ‘friend’ who had caused her to be displeased.

“You can shapeshift?” Said Thor suddenly, having finished the poptarts, “transform yourself to appear to be a different person?”

“Yeah,” Adara shrugged.

“My brother could do that,” said Thor, a sad look coming over his eyes.

Wasn’t Thor’s brother Loki? She was unsure. There was a rumour going around that Loki was dead, she guessed from the expression in his eyes that that was true. The rumour had started making rounds after Thor had fought those elves from outer space, something that Adara had found to be very confusing.

“Loki’s power worked a little different though,” argued Tony, “he was all about illusions. Her’s isn’t an illusion.”

Everyone looked at her expectantly. She sighed, deciding to go simple. Suddenly, she was no longer dark, brown haired, but her hair was now a bright, electric blue. 

“That’s boring,” said Tony, “make yourself look like me.”

 

She looked at him, hair changing back to normal colour. “Why would I want to look like you?” Her tone dismissive and distinctly French sounding.

Sam sniggered whilst the billionaire just looked offended.

“Who wouldn’t want to look like me?” He said.

“Everyone sitting round this table,” Natasha informed him.

“I second that!” Agreed Clint from over by the kitchen counter, making himself a cup of coffee.

“Well you could at least be a bit more adventurous than blue hair,” Tony said, ignoring the two assassins, “you’re a shapeshifter for God’s sake, you could be anyone.”

“Tony,” said Steve sternly, “she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” said Adara, “watch this.”

Suddenly, there was a duplicate of Thor sitting in the kitchen between Natasha and Steve, who both looked equally surprised to see the demigod sitting in the place where Adara had been sitting. 

“Aha!” Cried the real Thor, clapping his hands together, seemingly overjoyed “very impressive, Lady Adara!”

The Fake-Thor smiled before becoming her normal self, “thank you, Thor. Is that exciting enough for you, Tony?”

He tipped his head from side to side, “kind of.”

 

“Kind of?” repeated Sam, dumbfounded, “that was awesome! How does it work?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know the science behind it. They call it the Chameleon particle. Though, it’s not really a particle. It’s more like a serum.”

 

Banner tilted his head, thinking, “Chameleon isn’t very accurate term to describe it. They can only change the pigmentation of their skin, you can change your size and density too. As well as the details. It’s very impressive, by the way.”

“I can also heal wounds, sort of, that ability still needs developing.”

Banner and Helen seemed to be very intrigued by this.

“How?” Asked Dr Cho.

“If I can change my features to make myself look like a completely different person,” she explained, “then I should be able to change my body from injured to uninjured. Pass me that butter knife.”

Sam did so but Steve looked unsure.

“What are you going to do with it?” He asked cautiously.

“Just, watch,” she said, “I’m not going to stab myself through the heart, if that’s what your worried about.” It wasn’t very reassuring, and the super-soldier remained nervous.

“I just don’t think-” but Steve was shushed.

She placed her fingertip on the sharp edge of the knife and, holding her breath, sliced through the skin. She muttered a small ‘ow’ under her breath, but she had experienced worse pain before. The cut was small and thin, hardly bleeding at all.

“Watch closely,” she lay the finger out on the table and concentrated.

The rest of the team watched curiously as the cut suddenly vanished. 

“That seems useful,” observed Natasha.

“It only works on small injuries now,” said Adara, “the most I could probably heal is a sprained ankle, and that would take a lot of energy.” Her expression went distant for a moment, “Hydra wanted to know whether I could grow back a missing limb, but I got away before they got the chance.”

The team looked at each other awkwardly after that.

“About Hydra,” began Steve as gently as possible, “you haven’t heard anything about a sceptre?”

Adara licked her dry lips out of habit, “there were lots of experiments going during the time I was there. Plus, they never really told me what was going on. Sorry.”

“Where did they keep you whilst you were there?”

“A base somewhere in Siberia and one in Sokovia for a while. That was until they moved me to the one in D.C.”

“The bank?” Asked Natasha, “they kept the Winter Soldier there too.”

Adara nodded, “Je connais, I saw him there a few times. He sort of freaked out one day after he came out of Cryosleep, the distraction was long enough to give me the opportunity to get out of there.”

 

“But nothing about a sceptre?” Rhodey asked.

“Sorry, no,” she shook her her head.

After a little more small talk, breakfast was over and the team began to split up. Tony had some meeting to go to, Banner and Helen were heading to the lab, Clint went to shower, Rhodey went to a different meeting and Sam said he needed to go back to D.C. 

Natasha had decided to drag Adara to the gym, along with Steve. It was a large room with one wall lined with mirrors. There were several punching bags, treadmills, weights, mats and a boxing ring. In the other end of the room, there was a shooting range complete with several targets lining the walls at various heights, as well as dummies to practice shooting at. What really intrigued Adara were the weapons that lined the walls. These ranged from arrows to knives to darts, as well as guns of various shapes and sizes.

Adara was drawn the the knives straight away.

“So this is like a training room, huh?” She asked, taking one off the wall.

Natasha nodded, “you killed two full-grown men and critically injured the other two. I wanted to test your skills.”

 

“Well,” she closed one eye and aimed the knife in her hand at the target. She threw it and it landed dead centre. “I’m pretty good with blades.”

“What about guns?”

“She’s thirteen, Natasha,” Steve reminded the assassin.

The redhead smiled innocently at him, “just asking.”

“I’m good with them,” she shrugged, “they’re just a bit too loud for my taste.”

“So you’re well trained then?” Natasha raised an eyebrow.

“Hydra wanted me to become an assassin or something when I was older,” she shrugged, “they trained me in hand-to-hand combat as well as with other weapons. I most handy with knives, whether its up close or from a distance.”

“And that’s how you ended up stabbing three guys in the throat and one in the stomach,” the redhead looked at her, but her eyes didn’t seem to be angry or worried about this fact. In fact, she just seemed curious.

“Yeah,” the teenager replied, taking off a throwing knives and measuring that up.

“So you have skill,” she stated.

“I don’t think that’s the kind of thing you compliment someone for,” Steve said, “no offence, Adara.”

“None taken,” she shrugged, “it was in self defence,” she said it to convince herself more than to convince them, “they wanted to take me back to Hydra. There is no way I would ever let them. Aucune chance.” She added on the end to emphasis her point.

Natasha smirked, “Steve isn’t lecturing you, he would’ve killed those Nazi bastards if he had got the chance.”

“No, I wouldn’t of,” he didn’t seem that annoyed by her statement, “but no one’s going to arrest you for killing them, they were Hydra agents. Plus, we already have one in for questioning, and three out of five are still alive.”

“Always trying to look at the brightside,” the redhead punched his shoulder, “she did kill two people. Which, I’ll be one to admit, is impressive, considering you’re thirteen.”

She threw the throwing knife at one of the dummies. It landed in the centre of its head. She turned back to the two adults and shrugged at Natasha’s statement. Steve frowned, just realising something.

“Sorry to bring this up now,” he said, “but when you escaped from Hydra, you were in D.C, how’d you end up here, in New York?”

“Well,” she turned away from the knives ready to explain, “when I escaped around a year a go, Hydra was on their ânes trying to look for me. I stuck to the more crowded areas of D.C. I almost got recapturé a couple of times. I wanted to get out of D.C, but that was impossible considering that I knew that Hydra had control over most of the city, they’d be able to follow and track me if I tried to escape.”

“So what did you do?” Steve asked.

“Lived on the streets for a while,” she said it like it was no big deal, “stole food, clothes. I made sure never to look too much like myself, but using my abilities for a long period of time was draining. It wasn’t until Project Insight and the grand désastre that went down at the triskelion came along did I get the chance to escape.”

Natasha and Steve remained quiet, but leaned in a little at the mention of the events that had took place not too long ago.

“I knew Hydra was in ruins at that point, they lost a lot of resources and power. So I took the opportunity to get out of the city and took a train to Manhattan. There, I fell asleep on the streets but then someone found me and took me to social services. That’s how I ended up in the care home.”

“You lived on the streets?” Steve asked.

“Yeah.”

“And how old were you?”

“Twelve,” she answered quietly.

“No kid should have to go through that,” he said, “no kid should have to go through anything like you did.”

 

Adara felt a little awkward, “it’s not like I had a choice. Life’s just unfair. You should know that, you got frozen in ice for seventy years. You know, la vie suce.” She sighed, “and now that Hydra’s back on my ass again, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” She leant against the wall, peering at her hands, “maybe move foster homes? Move cities. If Hydra found me once, they can do it again.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Steve, though he didn’t seem to believe it himself, “we can deal with it. We’ve got some of their agents captured, we can get some information out of them.”

Adara was doubtful but didn’t want to push the point any further. She spent a couple more hours in the gym, throwing knives and testing out guns, much to Steve’s disapproval, but eventually as lunch grew closer, the three wandered into the kitchen to grab something to eat.

When Adara excused herself to go to the toilet, Steve and Natasha began to talk.

“There’s no way we can send her back to the same foster home,” said Steve, “or a different foster home. Hydra would just find her again.”

 

Natasha thought about it, “we could give her a fake name maybe. Send her to a different country. She’s could with languages.”

 

“I don’t like the idea of sending her away, if I’m being honest,” he admitted, “after all she’s been through, she deserves a life where she doesn’t have to be scared of Hydra tracking her down constantly.”

“I know what you mean,” she nodded, “there’s no way we can ever stop Hydra. There’s no stopping them. She told us that General Luka is a pretty big deal in Hydra, and he’s walking around scot-free and we have no proof to have him arrested.”

 

“As long as one member of Hydra is around, they can still rebuild,” murmured Steve, “cut off one head-”

“-and two more shall take its place,” Natasha finished and the two exchanged worried looks, “you’re right. In the end, Hydra will probably be able to rebuild. There’s no safe place for her.”

 

The blonde was silent for a little while longer, looking down at the kitchen table, sucked into his own thoughts. Then, after half a minute, he looked back up at Natasha.

“I can think of one place that would be safe,” he said.

She looked uncertain, “are you sure?”

“Can you think of anything better?”

Natasha thought about it but gave up after a couple of seconds.

“Will the others agree to it?” She asked eventually.

He stood up, “let’s find out.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Qu'est-ce qui se passe?” The eight year old Adara scream, “Qu'est-ce que tu fais?”

The girl had woken up after being drugged, completely tied down to a bed. She had struggled against it, trying to pull herself free from the restraints but it had been futile. Men in white coats had been moving around her, but she could hardly turn to look at them, as her head was tied onto the bed.

“Laisse moi partir!” She demanded in a shriek, “отпусти меня!”

The girl pulled and pulled but it was no use. Maybe, she could use her abilities to make her body thinner, so she could slip through the restraints tying her down. It had been a long time since she had used them. The last time she had tried, Luka had hit her. She hoped she could still remember how.

With great effort she calmed herself and, eyes closed, felt her wrists, ankles and the rest of her body become smaller. She slipped through them easily now, and pulled herself free, jumping off the bed and booking it across the room, having no idea what she was doing.

“The girl!” Yelled a voice with a distinct American accent.

The men around her began to shout things in Russian, making grabs at her, but she easily dodged past them, being as small and as under-fed as she was. She was wearing a hospital gown of sorts and her feet were bare, which was unhelpful against the cold ground of the hospital floor. 

She almost ran head first into the wall, but managed to push herself off of it in time and spotted a conveniently open door. The little girl had no idea what she was doing, she was scared out of her wits, and no one had told her what was happening.

She was inches away from the door when she felt someone grab her and pull her back.

“Lâchez-moi,” she shouted, “Отпусти меня! Get off of me!”

“Adara,” hissed Luka from behind her and she realised he was the one holding her back.

She attempted to struggle from his grip, but he was far stronger than her.

“Get it ready!” He twisted around and yelled at the scientists before turning to Adara, “calm down and you won’t get hurt.”

She squirmed and wriggled, doing her best to get away from him. “What is happening?” She asked through tears, struggling on the pronunciation of ‘happening.’’

“Just stay still,” he muttered in her ear, causing her to freeze up in fear, “you’re going to change the world, Adara.”

Then, before she could properly understand what he had said when she felt a jolt of sharp pain in her neck and, before she knew it, fell into unconsciousness.

...

The nightmare had felt and been so vividly real that, when Adara woke up, she could feel the pain in her neck where the syringe had pierced the skin. She licked her dry lips, keeping her palm over the area until the imaginary pain ebbed away. She was ready to lean under pillow to grab the notebook, when her door slid open.

“Do you want to shout any louder?” Asked Natasha in a voice that didn’t sound very concerned.

Adara checked her watch. It was just past three o’clock in the morning. 

“Sorry,” she muttered unapologetically, “I talk in my sleep.”

“More like you scream in your sleep,” the redhead huffed.

“I didn’t think anyone could hear me,” she said.

“I’m in the room next door,” she told her, eyes narrowing, “was it a nightmare?”

“The first since last week,” the teenager admitted with a sigh, “thought I was over it.”

 

“Write in your diary then.”

Adara glared, “how do you know about that? And it’s not a diary.”

Natasha plonked down on the bed beside her, though it was a very large bed so there was still quite a space between them.

“Steve might’ve mentioned it at some point,” she told her, “if it’s not a diary, what is it?”

Adara opened her mouth to tell her, but then stopped to think about it for a couple of seconds. “It’s like a captain’s log,” she answered eventually, “for like when a crew goes missing.”

“But you’re not a captain and you definitely don’t have a crew,” Natasha pointed out.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “but I’m writing it just in case I go missing. So, if anyone finds it, they’ll know what happened to me. That’s why I wrote it in english.”

“Depressing,” hummed Natasha in a voice devoid of any emotion before she reached under the pillow, “let me read it.”

“Hey!” Protested Adara, “you can’t do that!”

“You wrote in, fully intending for someone to read it someday.” Natasha pointed out, pulling out the notebook, “under your pillow isn’t a great hiding place either.”

 

The teenager scowled at her, folding her arms. 

 

“Woah,” the redhead said, flipping through the pages, “have you ever missed a day writing in this?”

Adara shook her head. The notebook, after having it so long was worn down with corners of pages fraying and a front cover which had lost its red colour. Each page was filled with writing, passages ranging from a couple of lines to entire pages worth of letters.

“There’s a couple of spelling mistakes,” said Natasha, “some of these sentences don’t make any sense grammatically.”

 

“Yeah, well English is not my first language,” Adara reached over to grab the notebook but Natasha moved it out of reach, “hey! Give it back!”

 

“I like this entry, ‘the money I stole from the guy should probably be enough to get me a pack of beer, which is good because I haven’t had a hangover in two weeks.’ You steal and drink? That’s intense for one teenager.”

 

“Yeah,” she snapped, “well the foster home wasn’t in the nicest part of Queens.”

“And you enjoyed hangovers.”

 

Adara frowned, “the headaches stopped the nightmares for a few days.”

“Gloomy,” she remarked with little sympathy, “there’s a lot of stuff about this ‘James’ fella.”

“Just some kid at the foster home,” she shrugged.

“He knows about your powers,” she was reading one of the passages.

“Yeah,” Adara said, “he never told anyone. We had a deal. I would steal stuff for him, he’d sell it off to some dodgy buyers and we’d split the profits. Plus, he never told anyone about what I could do.”

 

“Right,” Natasha snorted, “better not tell Steve about the whole booze thing.”

 

“I wasn’t planning to,” Adara smirked.

A silence fell between the two of them as Natasha flicked through a few more passages, skimming over them, taking a great interest in the earlier entries. Then, a few minutes later, she spoke again.

“Are you gonna go back to sleep?” She asked.

Adara shook her head, “I can try. But I won’t be able to.”

Natasha closed the notebook, handing it back to Adara. “Tu vas etre fatigue demain,” (you will be tired tomorrow).

“Je ne serais pas,” (I won’t be) she assured her.

Obviously, the redhead did not believe this one bit. “What are you going to do all night? Stare at the ceiling?”

“I have books,” Adara reached under the pillow and revealed that she had two books underneath.

Natasha frowned, “do you keep everything underneath your pillow?”

“Back in the foster home, if you didn’t hide everything, someone was bound to steal it.”

 

“You’re not in a foster home,” she told her, “and I don’t think any of us are planning on stealing your books.”

“You just read my notebook without my permission,” Adara pointed out, “plus,” she sighed, “I’m gonna have to go back to a foster home eventually.”

 

Natasha had a faraway look in her eyes when Adara said that. The teenager peered at her, attempting to guess what she was thinking. It was fruitless, the ex-assassin was difficult to read and didn’t seem to want to share what she was thinking.

“I’m going back to bed,” she said eventually, getting off the bed.

“Okay,” Adara wasn’t fussed, “bonne nuit.”

“Bonne nuit,” Natasha closed the door behind her.

...

“Miss Thomas, Mr Stark requests your presence in the kitchen,” came JARVIS’ voice the next morning at eleven o’clock.

Adara looked up from the book she was reading. She was sitting on a chair with her legs propped up on the desk in the corner of the room, which faced a large window that gave an impressive view of New York. She was dressed, washed and minding her own business when the A.I had spoke.

“I’ve already had breakfast,” she told him, “what does he want?”

“He did not specify,” the British voice replied, “he is there with the rest of the Avengers.”

 

Sighing, Adara swung her legs off of the desk and closed her book. “Okay, tell him I’ll be there in a minute.”

 

She stretched, feeling stiff after having sat down for so long. Time would often fly by in the tower when all there was to do was watch television or read a book. People would be coming in and out constantly and Adara preferred to avoid having any unwanted conversations with nosey strangers. Tony and Bruce spent most of their time in the lab, only coming out for food. Thor would sometimes go to visit his girlfriend, apparently the only reason he was hanging around Earth was because he was waiting for news of Loki’s Sceptre. Sam and Steve would travel to and from D.C often, Sam especially would spend more time there than in the tower. Clint too would disappear for days at a time, when questioned about it he would just shrug it off. Natasha remained at the tower most of the time, along with Tony’s girlfriend, Pepper Potts, when she wasn’t running Stark business elsewhere. Rhodey would also travel across the country doing whatever he did, probably military related in someway.

However, today, all the Avengers were in. The last time they had all been together was just over a week ago, when Adara had met them all. Over the time she had spent here, she had talked to some of them. Sam had been easy to get along with, he just seemed to have a carefree attitude and was happy doing whatever Steve was doing. Rhodey was less easy-going and was a true military man. Adara had only had one or two polite conversations with him and each time, Tony had been there. Tony was an entirely different story. He pretended he hated having Adara in the building, muttering things about ‘teenagers’ under his breath every time she was around. However, despite his arrogant nature, he was nice enough. And, whilst the uncaring attitude could get annoying, at least he wasn’t trying too hard. Bruce was soft-spoken and respectable. Adara had had a few intelligent conversations with him in which they had talked about her abilities and nothing more. Thor was a little too loud and too obnoxious for her taste, but he wasn’t human, so she couldn’t blame him.

The two people she had easily grown the closest to were Natasha and Steve. Either one of them would be watching after her at a time. They had been gracious enough to even take her out onto the town. Whether that mean eating out in a restaurant or doing shopping, which Steve wasn’t overly keen on. As long as the three of them were in some sort of disguise, it didn’t really matter.

Navigating her way to the kitchen was easy, she had figured out the layout of the building a couple days ago.

When she walked in, half of the team were eating breakfast and the other half were just chatting over cups of takeaway coffee from the cafe down the road. Adara took her usual seat between Natasha and Steve, the latter of whom handed her usual Americano.

“Why did you want me?” She asked, taking a sip from the cup.

“We needed to talk,” said Steve seriously as the table hushed around them.

“About what?” Despite asking the question, she had a feeling that she already knew what this would be about.

“About your living situation,” he told her, “we’ve been talking about it for a while, and I think we’ve all come to an agreement.”

 

Everyone around the table nodded.

“We were thinking about the options we had,” Natasha spoke up, “it was either send you to the same foster home, where Hydra already knew where you lived, or send you to a different foster home somewhere else under an alias.”

 

Adara was cautious, “where would this ‘different’ foster home be?”

“Probably another state,” Tony piped in now, “or, if we had to, a different country.”

“Okay,” she said calmly, despite not feeling it.

The truth was, Adara really didn’t like the idea of hiding away in some faraway state in some orphanage in the middle of nowhere. The thought of it was not at all tempting. But, then again, it’s not like she could exactly go back to her old foster home. She had put those who lived there in enough danger, especially after Hydra found out that she was staying there. If she were to return there, she was not only putting herself at risk, but James and the others who lived there too.

“We do an an alternative option,” Steve said, “one that we’ve all agreed on. But it’s up to you, you’ve got three choices.”

“Tell me then,” she said, a little impatient.

“Well,” he began, “we could either send you back to your old foster home under a different alias with heightened security surrounding it. I reckon this is the most risky option though.”

Adara nodded.

“Option two is probably the safest bet,” now Clint was talking, “however it would involve you going to some distant state or country surrounded by people you don’t know and living under an alias and having a completely fake life.”

 

Adara didn’t like that idea, but agreed that it was most likely the safest possible option. But, she had no doubt that Hydra, after a few years, may be able to find her again.

“Option three,” Natasha began, “is a little complicated but we reckon it’s the best.” She glanced around the table and Adara could feel herself getting curious. “You stay with us at the tower.”

For a second, Adara wasn’t sure whether she had heard Natasha right or maybe she had just been joking. But, looking at the faces round the table, she quickly realised that they were being serious.

“Here? At the tower?”

“Yep,” Tony nodded, “we’ve all agreed on it, as we’ve said several times already.”

 

“You want me at the tower? Me? A lazy teenager?”

“I won’t argue with ‘lazy,’” Tony said, “but yes, you.”

“But your the Avengers,” she shook her head, seemingly dumbfounded, “I’m just some kid with some issues.”

 

Natasha scoffed, “‘some issues?’ Adara, you have a hell of a load of issues.”

“Thanks.”

“I think what Natasha is trying to say,” Steve shot a stern look at the red head, “is that we don’t mind you staying with us.”

“We’ve already put up with you for a week,” Tony added.

“You’ll be safe from Hydra, you can basically do whatever you want,” Steve then frowned, “well not ‘whatever’ but we’ll get into the rules in a second.”

 

“Plus you live with the Avengers,” added Clint, “how cool is that?”

“Big-headed much?” Adara shot the archer a look, “but,” she bit the inside of her mouth, “I guess it wouldn’t be terrible. You guys aren’t awful, aside from Tony.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” he said.

“But what about when your on missions and stuff?” She asked, “it’s not like you’re gonna take me, some teenager.”

 

“Well, you can continue your training here,” Steve said, “but you’re not coming out on any missions with us. You can go to a proper school, not homeschooled. You can take the room you’re already sleeping in and decorate it however you want.”

“Plus I pride myself on having one of the most secure buildings in the world,” Tony added smugly, “any Hydra agent would have a hard time getting through the front door.”

“Humble,” remarked Banner from the other end of the table.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Steve assured her, ignoring Tony, “but the offer’s there for you.”

“Are you kidding?” She looked at him, “would I rather live in some dingy foster home in Kansas or someplace like that? Or would I rather live in a penthouse and have unlimited amounts of money? I think the answer’s pretty obvious.”

“The fact that you’re only in it for the money breaks my heart,” said Tony not sounding very sad at all.

Steve looked at her, “so is that a yes?”

“Yes, definitely,” she nodded, “but what was that about going to a school?”

Adara wouldn’t get much more information about a possible attendance at any school until three days later on the second day of October when Tony had found her browsing movies whilst lying on the floor. She had hardly registered his presence until he sat down beside her, cross-legged on the carpet.

“What?” She asked bluntly.

“You’re thirteen, right?” He asked, “and you’ll be fourteen on January third?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

 

“Just double-checking I got it right,” he said, “take a look at this.”

She took the tablet he had handed her and held it over her head, squinting to read it.

“Midtown Middle School,” she read aloud, “I’ve heard of Midtown High school, the one for science or something. If you go to that school, you guaranteed a job anywhere. As long as you pass. It’s in Queens. Never knew there was a middle school equivalent.”

 

“Well, you’ll be in eighth grade,” Tony told her, “you’ll probably be attending that school next year.”

 

“That’s great, but I hate science.” She handed the tablet back to them.

 

“Science and technology is just what it specialises in,” he said, “it also has a great language program. Either way, this middle school should set you up well for that place, considering everyone going there will probably be attending the very same high school.”

“Can’t wait,” she said, “middle school with some preppy nerds. Lucky me!”

 

“Hey, we agreed that school was part of the rules of living here,” he said, “we probably wouldn’t be able to homeschool you because most of us are too busy.”

“And your basically an adult child,” she said, “and probably a terrible teacher too.”

“I take offense to that,” he said.

“What about me myself?” She asked, “as in, am I Adara Thomas at this school? Or am I some blonde bimbo named Tiffany Cox who can’t spell her own name?”

Tony laughed a little but shook his head, “no, no, you can be Adara Thomas if you want. But, hey, if you want to be a Tiffany then be a Tiffany.”

Adara rolled her eyes, “so no secret identity?”

“We’ll come up with some fake story for you,” he said, “you were born in France but live with a mysterious, rich, distant relatives in New York. You can make up the rest from there.”

“What about Hydra?”

“If they find you, which they probably will,” he began, “they’re gonna have a tough time getting to you.”

“And when do I start school?”

 

“Next monday.”

“Next Monday?” She shot up, “it’s already Thursday!”

 

“I know,” he said, standing back up, “you better get ready before then.”

Once he was gone, Adara was left to her own thoughts. She really didn’t like the concept of school. Shove a bunch of horny, angsty teenagers in one building and make the work for their future and hope they don’t do anything stupid. The whole thing seemed to be a contradiction. Work hard and get good grades but also get into fights constantly because that makes you cool. Don’t be a prude, have sex and go crazy but don’t be a whore, stay a virgin and remain pure. Prove that your life is better than everyone else’s but also make sure everyone knows how terrible it is by putting up a sad post on your social media and whinge. Wear lots of makeup because the guys like that but don’t wear any makeup because guys hate that. 

“It’s rigged,” she muttered to herself, staring at the ceiling, “the whole systems rigged against you. No wonder no one can get a job nowadays.”

Back in the foster home, you all lived with each other and most were poorly educated by the people who ran the foster home on the bare basics of each subject. There were no ‘cool’ kids, it was all or nothing and whoever had the most money or the most food won at the end of the day. There was no place to judge anyone because either your parents didn’t want you or they were druggy child abusers or they were dead. Who cared about clothes? There wasn’t enough money to afford anything beyond a t-shirt and jeans for each kid, so why judge? It was a simple life, not a good one, but at least it wasn’t filled with messy contradictions like most American teenagers.

Adara sighed, she had a strong feeling that she wasn’t going to like school very much.


	7. Chapter 7

“Don’t laugh, Romanoff, it’s not funny,” Adara said.

She was standing in front of the large mirror in her bathroom, having spent the morning getting washed and ready for the day ahead. Her hair, as usual, was down and reached just past her chest. She hadn’t worn anything too fancy, sticking with a pair of black jeans with rips on the knees along with a white hard rock cafe t-shirt that was topped off with a green bomber jacket. There was also a plain, black, backpack slung over one of her shoulders which was currently empty. She hadn’t put on any make-up, despite the fact that Pepper had bought her some, because she knew that, if she unsatisfied with how her face looked, it was easy for her to just make it better with the snap of her fingers.

“It’s a little funny,” said Natasha, who was perched on the edge of the bathtub, “I can just picture you in a school full kids with big front teeth and red, acne faces.”

“You know, you are awful,” Adara told her, turning away from her reflection, “aren’t you supposed to be consoling me or something? It is my first day at school ever.”

“Do you want me to? Because if you’re nervous, you can always talk to me,” she then decided to start laughing as she said the last part.

“Maybe I should just start a fight on the first day,” the teenager mused, “or see how long it takes for me to get kicked out.”

 

“I heard that!” Shouted Steve from outside the bathroom, “do not start a fight! And hurry up or you’re going to be late, Happy is waiting!”

“Wow,” Natasha looked back at her, “he sounds on edge.”

Adara shrugged before smirking a little, “better get going before we give the poor old man a heart attack.”

“Careful, that old man could probably throw your ass to the moon with arms like those.” Natasha smirked.

“He could throw your ass too.” The teenager shot back, her accent becoming clearer on the word ‘ass.’

“No he couldn’t, I wouldn’t let him.”

“Like that would stop him.”

“Seriously! You two! Stop messing around in the bathroom,” Steve shouted, sounding agitated.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming!” Adara said before adding in a mutter, “he sounds like he could be my dad.” 

Adara definitely was not nervous. She was completely and utterly convinced that she was not nervous. Not one bit. It was only a school and she was Adara Martin Thomas. She was the girl who had spent seven years of her life trapped in Hydra, then another six months of her life living on the streets of D.C before finally living in a foster home in the not-so-nice part of Queens in which she would steal money from people. What was there to be scared of? It was just middle school.

But, as she walked towards Happy’s car, a growing sense of doubt resonated in her gut. She had never been to a school. The only thing she knew about schools were those dumb films like ‘Mean Girls’ and ‘High School Musical’ which were the few movies that the foster home had on dvd.

“Good luck,” said Natasha, drawing her out of her thoughts, “you’re gonna need it.”

“Reassuring,” remarked Adara, “if you see any mysterious murders of eighth graders on the news tonight, it wasn’t me.”

“Don’t be like that,” Steve said, “I’m sure it will be great.”

 

Both Natasha and Adara hit him with an incredulous look and he raised his arms defensively.

“Maybe not great,” he said, “but not terrible.”

 

The teenager didn’t seem convinced by this, “okay, sure. I’ll see you later.”

With that, she climbed into the car and Happy drove off.

“God, I feel like this is a big moment,” muttered Steve, “like I’ve sent my kid of to a concentration camp or something.”

 

“Steve, you’ve known her for two weeks,” the redhead said blandly, “you’ve become attached.”

 

“She’s living with us, Natasha, of course I’ve become attached.”

“Are you worried about her?” She asked, “because it is only middle school. School can’t be that bad.”

 

“I remember school,” said Steve, “it was awful.”

 

“Yes but you were some skinny kid from brooklyn,” pointed out Natasha, “plus you went to school in the thirties. Adara is fully capable of handling herself, I wouldn't be surprised if she became a popular girl with twenty boyfriends every week.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” he was disgusted by the prospect.

She smirked at him, “you know, she was right about something.”

 

“What’s that?”

“You do sound like you could be her dad.”

...

 

It was surprisingly clean. Adara didn’t know what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. The walls were painted a off-white colour and had windows built in that peered onto the basketball courts and parking lot in the distance. There was a sloppy painting of a meadow and flowers on the wall, with a rainbow that had the colours in the wrong order. On top of the rainbow were the words ‘welcome to Midtown Middle school’ printed in bold, black letters. She regarded it with some disgust, wondering how someone blind someone would have to be to approve that being on the wall. It definitely did not strike a good first impression as this was the main entrance to the school for guests and visitors, students came in another way.

But, as Adara was new, Happy had directed her to the reception, where she was to pick up her schedule as well as other information. It would be strange, considering she wasn’t starting at the beginning of the year. Would people find that suspicious? Probably. It was almost too suspicious in fact. What if people started asking questions? She had already come up with a fake backstory for herself, but would people believe it? She knew she could never fool a Hydra agent and there was always a slim possibility that a student or a teacher could secretly be working for the organisation. She could trust no one. That, or she was just being paranoid. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat brought her out of her thoughts and back to reality.

“Can I help you?” Asked the reception in a nasally voice.

Adara looked at her. She was a skinny, ginger, pale lady in her mid-forties wearing thick, black, horn-rimmed glasses and a professional white top with a straight, grey skirt. She regarded Adara with a dismissive look, which instantly annoyed the teenager.

“Yeah,” she said sharply, making her accent as clear and distinct as ever, “I’m Adara Thomas, I’m supposed to be joining today.”

“Uh-huh,” said the woman, slowly turning to her computer, “let me just get you up on here.”

As the woman began to slowly tap away at each key on the keyboard with steady, elongated presses, Adara could feel herself growing more and more impatient. Agitated, she bit her lip and began tapping her foot, arms crossed.

“Yes, okay,” said the woman eventually, “you’re the newest member of the eighth grade. Good for you.”

Adara couldn’t help but be reminded of the strange slug-monster from Monsters Inc, a film several of the little kids in the foster home had forced her to watch.

“Oui,” she said, “that’s me.”

“You won’t have anyone showing you around,” she said, “you’ve come at an awkward time of the year,” the woman fixed her with a glare, as though blaming Adara for all the faults in the world, “and most of our students are busy.”

“It’s fine,” Adara hissed through clenched teeth.

“Let me just print of your schedule,” she looked at the screen for a few, obnoxious seconds longer, “and,” she paused again, “your locker information,” there was another long pause and Adara noticed a growing queue of people behind her, “your school map.”

Adara let out an annoyed breath she hadn’t even realised she had been holding as the woman creaked out of her chair and made a steady plod to the printer in the corner. She waited there for a couple of seconds as the paper slowly emerged, before she took it and walked back to her chair.

She then handed the printed out things to Adara who took them graciously.

“Okay,” she said, turning around, ready to walk away, “thank you, I’ll be going.”

“Wait,” said the woman and Adara could’ve sworn that she sighed at the exact same time as everyone else behind her in the line did.

“Yes?” She but on an obviously fake smile.

“I need to check that you have all the appropriate equipment,” said the woman, “this includes the mandatory pe kit, the mandatory textbooks you were sent the links to via email, a pen, a pencil, a ruler, a-”

 

“Yes, yes,” Adara nodded, cutting her off, “I have everything. Now, I really need to go.”

 

The woman judged her uncomfortably for a few seconds before nodding.

“Goodbye,” she said with no enthusiasm at all, “and have a great first day at Midtown Middle School.”

Adara didn’t even bother saying goodbye back and was keen to get away from the receptionist as soon as possible. However, what she wasn’t expecting was to suddenly be overwhelmed by an influx of students ranging from eleven to fourteen. Most of them were much smaller than she was, making her feel slightly out of place. Most were extremely slow walkers and the ones behind her almost seemed to be treading on her heels on purpose. Pulling a face, she ignored the wave of pupils and glanced down at her locker information. She had locker 178, which had the words ‘down the corridor nearest the gym’ written brackets beside it. She glanced down at the school map, quickly getting a feel for her location and then the gyms location.

From there, locating it was a simple task. All it took was following the numbers written on them from one hundred and fifty to one hundred and seventy eight. She used the combination written for her on the locker information and the door swung open with a click. She took off her coat and shoved it in her locker, so she was just left with her jacket and t-shirt to keep her warm.

Closing the locker, she noticed the corridors were emptying out, so she probably had to hurry to class soon, otherwise she would be late. And the last thing she wanted to do was draw too much attention to herself.

However, that didn’t quite work as she strode into her first period math class in room one hundred and one hundred and seventeen five minutes late.

“Sorry,” she muttered to the teacher, who was in the middle of roll call, “I got lost.”

The male teacher, who she could not remember the name of despite the fact that it was written on her schedule, seemed ecstatic and got out of his chair.

“You must be the new girl he said,” looking at her keenly, “why don’t you introduce yourself to the class?”

Adara really didn’t want to do that but realised she didn’t have a choice. “Uh, okay. My name is Adara Thomas.”

The whole class looked at her intrigued, probably because of her accent. There was a awkward silence for a few seconds as the teacher seemed convinced that Adara was planning on saying something else, which she wasn’t. Eventually, he realised this.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Adara,” he said, “my name is Mr Covington and you can take a seat at the back there,” he pointed to the only free seat in the room, “next to Michelle.”

“Okay,” she said.

She walked to the back of the class, feeling eyes following her, and plonked down beside the girl, apparently named Michelle. Much to her relief, Michelle didn’t look up from the book she was reading.

The class dragged on slowly and, half an hour in, Adara realised that this would be the place she would lose her mind in.

...

Peter Parker was not Spider-man. Not yet.

He was a skinny kid who wore glasses and had a lanky build with arms that were a little too long as he was yet to properly grow into his body. His brunette hair was almost too neat all the time and was not exciting in any way. He wasn’t popular, at all. He was a loser, but had grown to generally accept that.

His best-friend and only friend, who was also a loser, was Ned Leeds, a boy with dark skin and a chubbier build. The two were happy sitting with each other and talking about nerdy stuff, unless Flash was harassing them. Sure, there was Michelle. But their relationship with the girl could hardly be called a friendship. And, back when they had first started middle school, Liz had been there too. But Liz was in high school now and Peter knew he had less than a year left to wait until he was going to the same school as his crush.

Peter had very little to worry about in his life. Everything was perfectly normal. That was until a cold Monday morning on October sixth when the rumours of a new kid having just joined their grade began to fly around the school. It was certainly strange to have someone join in the middle of the year, but not something that warranted too much suspicion.

“They’re a girl,” Ned had whispered to him during chemistry, “and apparently she has an accent.”

 

“What kind of accent?” Whispered Peter back, pretending to listen to the teacher at the front of the classroom.

“I don’t know,” Ned shrugged, “I asked Cindy, and that’s all she told me.”

“Who even cares?” Peter rolled his eyes, “it’s just a new girl.”

“You’re not even a little interested?” His friend raised an eyebrow.

Peter nodded, “Not even a little.”

By the time it was fourth period English, the rumour mill had really gotten out of hand.

“Russian spy?” Peter shook his head, looking up from the book he was supposed to be reading, “that’s stupid. Who would want to send a spy here? We’re just some middle school.”

 

“Maybe,” theorised Ned beside him, “they sent a spy here so they know who the smartest kids are, and then they kidnap them and force them to become scientists working on a massive nuclear bomb.”

“That’s just dumb,” he said, “first of all, Russia isn’t the Soviet Union anymore, so they don’t need to kidnap anyone.”

Ned looked doubtful.

“Second of all, who even came up with that rumour?”

“I overheard Charles and Abe talking about it,” his friend explained.

“Why do you guys even care?” Asked Michelle from the desk behind them, “you’re acting like there’s never been a new kid before.”

“I don’t care,” denied Peter, turning to look at her, “Ned was just telling me about her, that’s all.”

 

“Aren’t you curious?” Ned asked Michelle who shook her head.

“She was in my math class,” she told them, “she sat next me. She looks completely normal.”

“Russians spies have to look normal to blend in,” Ned pointed out.

She just rolled her eyes and turned away, going back to reading her book.

It was only five minutes later, signalling the start of fifth period, meaning it was time for Peter and Ned to head to the locker rooms to get changed for PE. The truth was, Peter despised PE. Coach would either make them run laps or do press ups all lesson. Peter had no stamina whatsoever and lessons would often end with him being a sweaty mess, crumpled on the ground, gasping for breath. 

And it wasn’t like he could fake and illness to get out of it either. Unlike the girls who would make something up about terrible period cramps, despite not even being on their period, to make the male coach uncomfortable so they could get out of doing any work, the boys had no such luc and were forced to work out until their lungs stopped working.

Once they were changed, the pair of friends walked into the gym. The first thing there was to notice was the unfamiliar girl leaning on the the wall in the corner. She was a girl who could definitely give Liz a run for her money.

She was wearing the mandatory PE uniform, which included an ill fitting t-shirt and a pair of shorts that reached her mid-thigh, showing off tanned legs, built up with well-defined muscles that were enough to distract any teenage boy going through puberty. Her expression was one of clear annoyance, as she leant against the wall with her arms folded. Her bright green eyes were narrowed into a pointed glare, scanning the room and everyone in it with suspicion. She had well-defined cheekbones as well as pouted lips and a small nose. Her dark, brown hair was long a straight, aside from a wave towards the end of it. Most of shielded her face from view and Peter wondered how she managed to keep control of all it.

“Is that her?” He asked Ned.

“Must be,” he breathed, “she’s so pretty.”

 

“I mean,” Peter attempted to come of as nonchalant as possible, “yeah, I guess she is.”

The girl must’ve noticed them staring because she fixed them with a harsh scowl which was strangely intimidating for a thirteen-year-old.

“Look out,” said Ned suddenly, “it’s Flash.”

 

Sure enough, Peter’s usual tormentor had made his way into the gym, flanked by two of his friends. But, for once, Flash ignored the two losers and strode towards the new girl, a cocky smirk on his face.

It was almost amusing to see the look of utter disgust the girl had when he approached.

“Hey,” Flasha said smoothly, “my name’s Flash Thompson, I’m sort of a big deal around this school.”

She looked down at him and Peter realised that this girl could probably pummel Flash into the ground if she wanted to.

There was a couple seconds of silence and Flash realised she wasn’t going to respond.

“So, what’s your name, new girl?”

She eyed him up for another few seconds before responding. “Adara Thomas,” she said finally, her accent distinctly French sounding.

Flash didn’t seem to catch on to this, “woah! You sound European. Is it true you’re a russian spy?”

Adara looked affronted, “you think I am Russian?” She asked, clearly rolling the ‘r,’ “either you are stupid or deaf.”

He laughed nervously, “sorry, all you Europeans sound the same to me.”

Everyone in the gym seemed to do a mental facepalm at the boy’s words. Even Michelle looked up from her book to see what was going on. 

Adara pushed herself off the wall, standing to her full height to show that she was at least a head taller than him.

“Why is that?” She asked him, “because you don’t understand what they are saying means you can’t distinguish my accent from a russian one? Britain is part of Europe, but do British people sound German or Spanish to you?”

 

“Uh,” Flash took a step back, “no.”

 

“Why is that?” She looked down on him, “because they speak english? Because you understand them?”

“Uh,” he looked left and right, “yeah.”

“And because the rest of europe doesn’t speak your precious language, does that mean we all sound the same?”

“I mean, sort of,” he answered hesitantly.

Adara looked down at him, her face showing obvious agitation and seemed to only be a couple of seconds away from throwing a punch in his face. Much to Peter’s disappointment, she managed to hold herself back.

“Well, just so you know for next time,” she said, “I am not Russian. I am not Spanish or German or Italian or British. I am French. Got it, Flash?”

 

At the sound of his own name, he seemed to regain his composure. “Yeah, I got it,” he grinned at her, “so, Paris.”

She looked at him, “what about it?”

 

“It’s the city of love, right?” He said, “how about you take me there and show me around?”

Peter rolled his eyes and muttered, “why won’t he just give her a break?”

However his mutter wasn’t quiet enough as Flash turned around quickly to look at Peter, smug grin vanishing to an expression of strong dislike as he looked at Peter.

“What did you say, foureyes?” He snapped, making his way over to him with an angry stomp.

Peter knew he was in for it now.

 

If the dorky, skinny kid in the glasses hadn’t intervened, Adara reckoned she would’ve punched Flash Thompson in the face right then and there. She had been completely right about her thoughts about going to school with a bunch of horny teenagers and she wondered how she was going to live through this. She had stabbed two guys to death and critically injured another two, only being stopped when she had been shot in the shoulder. And that had only happened a fortnight ago. Now she was here, trying her hardest not to start a fight because she knew how annoyed Steve would be.

“What did you say, foureyes?” Snapped Flash to the poor nerd.

Foureyes? Oh, he was wearing glasses. Adara reckoned she had never heard an insult as terrible as that.

“Uh-” the boy faltered, “nothing.”

 

“Quelle mauviette,” she murmured to herself when she noticed how intimidated the boy was of Flash, despite being taller than him.

“Really, Penis Parker?” He said, “because it sounded like you were implying that I was annoying her.”

“Well,” the boy tipped his head side to side, considering it, “I think you were annoying her.”

 

“No I wasn’t,” Flash turned back to Adara, “was I annoying you?”

She nodded, flashing him an innocent smile.

The boy didn’t seem convinced, “you’re just saying that.”

Adara sighed, “va te faire enculer, connard.”

Flash blinked, “what does that mean.”

“It means, go fuck yourself, asshole,” she said, not bothering to filter herself, “I’ve heard better insults from a five year old. ‘Four eyes?’ ‘Penis Parker?’ Why is ‘penis’ funny? Every boy in this room has a penis, it’s just a body part. It would be like calling him ‘Elbow Parker,’ it’s not funny.”

Flash seemed dumbfounded, “but, his name-”

 

“Sounds a bit like the word penis?” She clapped him, “you’re a genius. What an original insult! I could have never come up with something like that! You’re so smart, Flash, you must get all the women.”

“Wow,” he said, “you are a massive bitch.”

She wanted to roll her eyes so far into the back of her head that they got stuck.

“And you’re not?” She shot him a look, “call me whatever you want, Flash Thompson, but there are better ways of spending my time than with some random, horny, teenage boy.”

“I’m not horny,” He denied but several people were sniggering behind him.

As condescending as possible, Adara patted him on the head. “Whatever you think. If you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving you to your own devices.”

 

She walked away, keen to leave the shorter boy behind. She sat down on the gym steps beside the girl who she had been sitting next to in math who, again, payed her no attention as she was buried into a book, a different one to which she had been reading earlier.

Now with everyone changed and gossiping about the whole drama that had just happened, the coach began the lesson.

...

 

Lunch did not start out as a fun affair. The food had been absolutely disgusting so Adara had resorted to a carton of heavily watered down orange juice and a plain ham sandwich. She had chosen to sit on an empty table towards the back, mainly because it gave her a superior view of the cafeteria, making it easier to her to glare at everyone in it.

She had taken two bites into her sandwich and realised that the ham tasted a lot more like plastic than food, when she heard a tray clatter down in front of her and the two losers from earlier sat down across from her.

“Oh,” she said, taking a sip out of her orange juice carton, “it’s you two.”

“I, uh, just wanted to say thanks,” said the skinny one said, “for the whole thing in the gym earlier.”

She observed him for a moment, he was a scrawny teen, wearing black rimmed glasses. His outfit was a simple navy blue sweater with a checkered shirt underneath. He had a dorky kind of smile as he looked at Adara, she supposed it was kind of cute.

She narrowed her eyes at him, “well, I was just pointing out that he had a terrible insult game. Who are you anyway? Because I’m pretty sure your name isn’t really Penis.”

He seemed embarrassed as she brought it up, “my name’s Peter Parker.” he fumbled a little with his words This is my friend, Ned Leeds.”

“So are you really French?” Asked his friend with more confidence than him.

“No, I’ve been lying this whole time, I’m actually a deep-state Texan cowboy,” she dead-panned.

Luckily, neither one of them was dumb enough to take her seriously and laughed, it seemed to loosen any prior tension around the table.

“Yes, I’m French,” she answered, “lived in France for six years of my life.”

 

“Why did you move to America?” Peter asked, his voice much more solid now.

She shrugged, keeping it as vague as possible, “family reasons. I’ve been homeschooled most of my life, this is my first ever day at an actual school.”

“What do you think of it?” 

“It’s awful,” she told him honestly, “I don’t know how you put up with it.”

“You get used to this after a while,” said Peter, “you sort of have to, especially when your the losers.”

Of course, it was all based around looks here. If you didn’t look the best, then you were automatically relegated to the nerd who sits in the corner on his own. No one cared about your personality. You could be the most putrid, bitchy person around but still be worshipped by everyone.

“Isn’t this school full of little nerdy losers though?” She asked, “I mean, it’s one of the top middle schools in the area, right?”

“Yeah,” Ned was eating a baguette, “but some people, like Flash, still think they’re cooler than others. He’s mainly jealous of Peter because he’s smarter than he is and will definitely make it onto the academic decathlon team next in high school.”

Peter looked slightly embarrassed, “you’ll make it onto the team too, Ned.”

 

“I guess we’ll see,” Ned shrugged, “what about you, Adara?”

“I don’t know,” she said, truthfully she didn’t know what an ‘academic decathlon’ even was.

“Hey, Michelle,” said Peter when the girl from earlier sat down the table, a little away from the trio.

She grunted in response, hardly registering Adara’s presence.

“‘Marianne in Chains’” Adara read the title of the book Michelle was reading.

Finally, she looked up, taking in Adara’s appearance for a couple of seconds before speaking, “what about it?”

“I’ve read the book,” she told her, “it’s good.”

“It’s an interesting part of history,” Michelle shrugged.

“It was a dark time in history,” corrected Adara.

“What part of history was it about?” Peter asked, curious.

“The Nazi occupation of France during World War two,” Adara told him, “it offers a more realistic and well-researched side of what it was like living during that time.”

“Oh, wasn’t that when Hitler invaded France?” Asked Ned, “and they joined the Germans or something.”

Adara looked offended, “France did not join the Axis Powers,” she fixed him with a glare, “the only reason why there was a ‘free zone’ in France was so the Germans could place a puppet state there and control them, making it seem like they were no longer with the allies. It was a Nazi move used to intimidate the British into surrendering. It didn’t work.”

 

“Wow,” said Peter, “you know a lot about history.”

“I know a lot about my own country’s history,” she said, “like you know a lot about American history.”

He looked confused, “I thought you moved to America when you were six.”

“Yeah, but my parents taught me a lot about France and its history,” she lied.

Truthfully, Hydra had forbidden her from ever learning about her own country. They were scared that she could have emotionally compromising ties to it, they wanted Adara loyal to them, not her country. It would often go as far as Luka beating her for even uttering a word in French. Nevertheless, she remained determined. She would make sure she never lost her accent, no matter how badly Luka beat her. She would also speak french to herself when no one else was around, reaffirming her knowledge of her home language. The moment she escaped Hydra, she had done countless hours of research into the history, geography and politics of her birth country. It was one of the few things that kept her sane whilst on the run from the organisation hunting her.

Ned suddenly giggled to himself, drawing her out of her memories.

“What is funny?” She asked him, frowning.

Even Peter looked slightly bewildered at his friend’s sudden laughing fit. Michelle had gone back to reading.

“Sorry,” he said, recovering, “I just can’t believe you’re actually sitting with us.”

“You sat with me first,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, but I’m surprised you didn’t move away or something,” he said, “like, even being seen talking to Peter and I will be a serious damper on your social status.”

Adara glanced at Peter, who nodded along with this and didn’t seem offended one bit.

“Why would I care about social status?” She snorted dismissively, draining the rest of her orange juice with a long gulp.

“You probably don’t,” observed Ned, “but you’re really pretty and all, you could become really popular if you wanted to.”

“Thanks, Ned,” she smiled at him, a genuine one this time, “but I’d rather not hang out with a bunch of losers?”

Peter frowned, “losers like us?”

 

“No, losers like them,” she pointed to where Flash and his posey were sitting. “You guys aren’t losers. Believe me on that one, I know a loser when I see one,” she thought back to Luka and sneered a little, “you guys are normal.”

“Well, thanks, Adara, I guess,” said Peter, smiling back at her.

Adara felt her stomach drop as she stared at the grinning, goofy nerd across from her.

Holy shit, that was one cute smile.


	8. Chapter 8

The moment she walked in, Adara dumped her bag on the floor and fell face first onto the sofa, not moving for several seconds.

“I think you’ve killed her, Tony,” said Natasha, looking up from the tablet she was reading from.

The billionaire stared at the girl who was yet to move from her position on the couch. It was just the two of them in the main room at the time. Steve had gone out for a afternoon jog, which Tony had labeled ‘insane,’ Bruce was down, working in the lab and Sam was in the kitchen getting a drink. The rest of the team were out doing something or other.

“Is she asleep?” he tilted his head to the side.

“I’m not asleep,” the teenager replied, voice muffled.

“The what are you doing?” Asked Natasha.

“Lying face-down on the sofa,” she answered snarkily.

“We got that part, why?”

“Because school is terrible and I want to die,” she told them bluntly, no filter at all. She then sat up to her full height and narrowed her eyes at the two of them. “This was a terrible idea.”

“It sounds like your first day went well then,” remarked Tony, “meet any cute boys?”

“There was this one guy…” she said with a mock-look of loving on her face before letting out a divisive snort of contempt, “he was convinced I was a Russian spy.”

 

“Why did he think that?” Natasha asked incredulously.

“Because all Europeans sound the same to him,” Adara shook her head, “I know, he’s a moron.”

“So that’s a no go on the friends?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

She looked thoughtful for a second. “I did find a couple people to sit with at lunch.”

“Oh? Who were they?” He began listing off the typical high-school tropes, “was it the jocks? The mean girls? The nerds? The weirdos who are probably planning a way to shoot up the school?”

“Two complete losers,” she informed them, “they were the least annoying people I could find.”

“Well, you know,” the billionaire said, “it’s always good to get to know the little people.”

“Hey, Adara!” Said Sam, “how was school?”

She just shot him a glare that told him everything. 

He smiled at her, amused by the situation. “Did you tell anyone about the time you stabbed two people to death in an alleyway? Bet that story would’ve really got their blood pumping.”

 

“No, though I was tempted to,” she told him, “I was also tempted to stab several other teenagers, but I held myself back.”

The man raised an eyebrow and sat himself down on the sofa beside Adara, passing her a glass of water which she drained in around three seconds.

“I remember school,” said Sam, distant look on his face, “I was pretty popular.”

“School was a blur for me,” said Tony, “considering I graduated from MIT at the age of only seventeen.”

“Wow,” Natasha rolled her eyes, putting on a sarcastic tone, “we’re super impressed.” Tony just gave her a smug grin and she shook her head, pretending to be annoyed at him. She turned her attention back to the teenager who was in the middle of selecting music to play through her headphones, “Besides that, got any homework?”

Adara looked at her, “uh, no.”

 

Natasha narrowed her eyes, “are you lying?”

“Possibly,” the teenager scrolled through her phone.

“Go do your homework,” she instructed.

Adara was stuck with surprise, “but it’s not due in until next week.”

Natasha didn’t shift, “do it now,” she went back to reading her tablet, “better to get it out of the way with then do it all at the last minute.”

 

The dark-haired girl clenched her jaw, annoyed but didn’t want to argue with Natasha. “Fine, I’ll do it now.”

She left the room, grabbing her bag on the way out.

Natasha heard people sniggering. She looked up to see Sam laughing his ass off and Tony smirking at them as though he knew something she didn’t

“What?” She asked, “what’s so funny?”

...

She was walking beside Peter. She wasn’t sure why, Happy usually gave her a lift home from school so she had no need to walk. But here she was, walking beside the dorky boy who was happily chatting away about something. The street was strangely devoid of people aside from the two teenagers, something that Adara found suspicious. No cars, no traffic, nothing.

“Why did you move to America?” Peter asked.

Adara looked at him, “haven’t you already asked me this question? In the canteen, the other day.”

“Did I?” He said, looking confused, “oh, I guess I did. Déjà vu, huh?”

“Déjà vu actually directly translates to ‘already seen’ from french,” she looked at him, “did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t,” he shrugged, “I mean, I know what it means but I never knew what it translated to.”

“Peter, where are we going?” She asked him.

He looked at her, “home.”

“That’s a vague and slightly unsettling answer,” the girl remarked, “who’s home, your home?”

He never got a chance to answer as a man wearing military general uniform blocked their path. They couldn’t see his face, it was covered by a black mask that only had slits for eyes. Really, Adara should’ve figured out who he was straight away, but she was in a strange world that didn’t entirely make sense. Though, she did register that he was holding a gun.

“Take it,” he said in an awfully familiar voice, “take the gun.”

Confused, she did so, finding herself unable to refuse. She looked down at the gun, a simple, silver handgun, loaded and ready, the safety already turned off.

“Good,” said the voice, “now shoot him.”

Adara felt Peter stiffen beside her.

She looked up from the weapon, “what?”

“Shoot him,” the man commanded again, “shoot Peter Parker.”

She turned to Peter, the teenage boy looking at her with wide, terrified eyes. Without hesitating, she raised the gun, pressing the barrel of it to his forehead.

“Adara,” he gasped out, “what are you-”

 

Bang! She fired.

‘What’ was the only word her mind registered in those couple of seconds. Why had she done that? Sure, she hardly knew Peter but the boy didn’t deserve to die and she had just shot him in the head without hesitation.

“I-” she collapsed to her knees beside the body, “what did I do?”

His eyes were glassy, staring at nothing. His body wasn’t moving, rigid and stiff and already going cold. His blood pooled from the wound on his head, dripping onto the sidewalk, making a red puddle.

“What did you do, Adara?” Asked the man and she turned to face him, suddenly remembering he was there.

The mask was off. General Luka was grinning down at her.

“What did you do to me?” She growled.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, “I gave you the gun and an order. You didn’t have to carry it out, but you did anyway.”

Her hands were turning red and she turned to stare at the body, “I didn’t- I-”

 

“You shot him in the head,” he crouched down, whispering in her ear.

“I’m dreaming,” she said, “None of this is real.”

 

“Maybe not,” he said, “but you will kill him. And the rest of them.”

“What are you talking about?” She asked, voice hoarse and bitter.

“Look up, Adara.”

She did so and, all of a sudden, she was surrounded by countless dead bodies. Natasha. Steve. Tony. Sam. Rhodey. Bruce. Thor. Ned. Michelle. All of them, even Flash. Dead. With the same exact bullet wound she had given Peter. She had. It was all Adara’s fault. 

There was a ringing in her ears.

“Stop it,” she whispered.

“I’m all you have, Adara Thomas,” Luka told her, forcing her to look at him, “the only constant in your life.”

The ringing grew louder.

“I’ll find you.”

“Stop it.”

It got even louder.

She slammed her hands over her ear.

“Just stop it,” she said, teeth clenched, “go away.”

“I’ll never be gone,” he said, cold eyes glimmering, “I’m always there.”

 

“Stop. Stop. Stop,” she shouted as the ringing grew unbearably loud, “stop it!”

He just looked at her, his expression satisfied.

She crouched low to the ground, gripping her head. “Just stop it. Get out of my head.”

 

Louder. Louder. And louder.

“Arrête ça!” she was basically screaming now, holding her head like it was going to explode, “arrête ça! Arrête le bruit!”

...

Someone was shaking her.

“Arrête ça!”

Water on her face.

“Arrête ça!”

“Adara!” A voice shouted and she immediately threw her hands in front of her face, to block something unseen.

Steve caught her wrists before she could punch him in the face accidently.

She was awake and covered in water, Steve was crouched over her, his face alarmed and filled with concern. Natasha was beside him, holding an empty glass, which had presumably been filled with the water that now drenched her.

Her breath came in short panicked sobs. Had she been crying? She was shaking uncontrollably, her body ached from the spasms she had been having her sleep. Steve still had a hold of her wrists, doing his best to keep the shell-shocked girl from lashing out.

“Breathe,” he said, “just breathe.”

Her head was pounding, her vision was blurry.

“Adara, listen,” said Steve and the harshness in his tone jolted her back to him. “You need to get a hold of yourself. Breathe with me, understand? Breathe with me.”

She did so and found herself calming a little.

“She needs water,” said Natasha, “and sugar. She’s pale.”

Her body was still trembling, but she was able to fully sit up in her bed and focus on calming down. The dream had felt so real, so painfully real. She squeezed her eyes shut, leaning back on the backboard of the bed and trying her hardest to banish the awful imagery of Peter’s and everyone else’s dead faces.

“Adara,” Natasha said, “tu dois boire ce,” (you have to drink this).

She was holding a glass of water to her.

Adara took it in shaking hands and drained it all.

“Bien,” she said, “manger ce aussi,” (eat this too).

She was holding a Hershey’s bar, but Adara looked at it with a great amount of hesitance on her face. Looking at food made her feel ill, the nightmare had left her feeling woozy.

“Je n'ai pas faim,” (I’m not hungry) she told her.

“Dammit, Adara,” said Natasha, “just eat the damn thing.”

She did as she was told and felt the stare of the two Avengers on her.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered.

“Adara, you were screaming,” said Steve, “we tried to wake you up, we did everything. Hell, Natasha even slapped you. It wasn’t until we poured water on your face did you actually wake up.”

 

“Yeah, well,” she rubbed one of her eyes, “I’m a heavy sleeper.”

“You talk in your sleep,” Natasha said, “you have a tendency to say whatever your saying in your dreams. Sometimes you shout but usually you’re okay, this time it was different.”

Adara took a minute bite out of the Hershey's bar and looked at the blanket, not saying anything.

“You’re not in the foster home anymore, Adara,” said Steve softly, “you can talk to us about this. You have these nightmares almost daily and every time you wake up at the ungodly hours of the morning and don’t go back to sleep. Now that you go to school, you need to have a good night’s sleep so your brain can properly function in the morning. You don’t have to ball it all up inside.”

 

“The dreams I normally have are memories,” she said, realising how hoarse her voice was, “memories of my parents being killed or what happened to me in Hydra. This time it was different. It wasn’t an event that had already happened, it was like a made up, sick fantasy my brain came up with. It felt so real. I could feel real pain, and everything was so touchable. It was like real life.”

“Can you tell us what happened in the dream?” Steve asked gently.

She hesitated before speaking. Before she knew it, she was recounting every single aspect of the dream, from the shooting of Peter Parker to the hundreds of dead bodies that had surrounded her. By the time she was done, surprisingly, she felt a little better.

...

Going to school the next day was a tiring affair. But, sure enough, Adara got dressed, ate breakfast, brushed her teeth and headed out for the day. When Happy drew up outside the building, Adara had drifted off in the car. He honked his horn, causing her to wake up suddenly, hands instantly in defensive positions. 

He raised an eyebrow at her through the car’s rear view mirror. “We’re here.”

She glanced at the school, still slightly startled. Before her eyes narrowed in a glare of disgust.

“Day two, I guess,” she muttered, “thanks, Happy.”

 

“No problem, kid.” 

She clambered out of the car, closing the door behind her, and made her way into the school. Her first lesson today was Spanish which she wasn’t fussed about. Spanish had been one of the first languages that Hydra had nailed into her head and, behind French and English and Russian, it was probably one of the languages she was most fluent in. For her, and any other language class, this was just going to be an easy A.

She quickly dumped her coat in her locker and headed for class.

“Oh, you must be the new student, Miss Thomas,” said the Spanish teacher in an appropriately thick Spanish accent the moment she walked in.

“Yeah, I joined yesterday,” she said, “where should I sit?”

“There’s a spare seat there at the back, next to Mr Parker. You can sit there,” the woman smiled warmly at her.

Adara thanked her and sat at the back, loudly plonking down on the seat beside Peter, who was currently distracted and talking to Ned who was at the desk in front.

“Oh, hey, Adara,” said Peter, “is this your seat?”

“Miss Whatsherface told me to sit here,” she told him, pushing away the memories of last night’s nightmare that sprung into her mind when she saw his face.

“That’s pretty cool,” he said, “we get to sit next to each other.”

“I guess it is, hey, Ned,” she added to the other boy before yawning.

“Are you tired?” Asked Ned.

“Sort of,” she shrugged, “didn’t sleep great last night.”

Adara never slept great but, no matter what ridiculous time she would wake up, she would never feel tired. Today was an exception, last night’s nightmare and the subsequent freak out she had had after it had left her feeling drained, she doubted she’d be able to get through the entire day. Luckily, she sat right at the back of the classroom, beside the window, meaning that she was pretty well hidden if she drifted off accidently.

“I didn’t sleep well last night either,” said Peter, “I had this crazy dream about a massive bird, I think it was a vulture, break into my room.”

“Sounds exciting,” remarked Adara.

“It was terrifying,” he said, “that thing was like three times the size on me and was trying to grab me and pull me out the window so it could fly me to its nest and feed me to its kids or something.”

 

“Then what happened?”

“My uncle Ben came in and whacked the bird away with a broom,” he looked very thoughtful, “for some reason he was wearing a dress and I’m not sure why.”

“Wild,” she frowned, it certainly sounded a little less graphic than her own dream.

“Anyway, then I woke up.”

“I had a dream that I got into a fight,” Ned began, “I don’t know the specifics but I broke some guys nose.”

“I had a dream,” Michelle imputed suddenly from beside Ned, “I don’t remember what happened. You were in it, Adara.”

“What was I doing?” She peered at the more reclusive but snarky girl, only now realising how pretty she was. She was wearing a completely black hoodie, but her skin was an amazingly clear, rich, brown colour and her hair was a curly brunette. She had dark eyes that were constantly narrowed into some form of contempt, but were really pretty if you were to look past the expression.

“Driving a plane and talking in French, at least I think it was french,” Michelle said, “dreams are weird.”

Adara nodded in agreement, “they are.”

“What about you, Adara?” Asked Peter, “what did you dream about.”

‘I dreamt that I shot you in the head and killed you for no reason,’ was what she would’ve said if she was being honest.

“Weird dream that I fell off the empire state,” she lied, “when I woke up I still felt like I was falling.”

“Oh yeah,” said Ned, “that happens to me too sometimes.”

 

“Okay class,” said the teacher, standing up and clasping her hands together, “quiet down now. Today we’ll be learning…”

Adara zoned out only three seconds into the lesson. Her eyes were focused on the window as the class hushed around her. The world outside was boring an uneventful. There was a pe class going on the tennis courts, which seemed to involve a machine firing out tennis balls at the student who then had to try and, most of the time, fail to hit it. It was entertaining for a minute or two, but quickly her mind was drifting back the nightmare, which was the exact opposite of what she wanted to do.

She couldn’t help it, the memory of it was so painfully clear. She recalled Luka and his face, grinning down at her as she stared at the body of Peter. Suppressing a shudder, she attempted to force the image of the man out of her mind.

“I’m all you have, Adara Thomas, the only constant in your life. I will find you.”

She chewed the inside of her mouth. There was little doubt in her mind that Hydra would find her, but she could imagine that, even now, there had to be at least someone watching over her. The Avengers had promised her protection, they wouldn’t let Luka get his hands on her again. But would they be able to stop him if he tried? She hoped they would.

“Miss Thomas,” said a voice, drawing her out of her thoughts, “I know you’re new, but you need to learn to pay attention in class.”

“I was listening, miss,” the teenager assured the teacher.

She didn’t look convinced. “Really? Than translate this into Spanish.” And pointed to the writing on the blackboard.

Without any hesitation or stutters, Adara did just that. “Una oración compleja debe incluir una cláusula independiente y una cláusula dependiente. Una cláusula independiente es una cláusula que puede formar una oración aislada completa, con un sujeto y un predicado. Una cláusula dependiente es una cláusula que proporciona un elemento de oración con información adicional, pero no puede ser solo una oración en sí misma.”

The teacher looked vaguely impressed and nodded to Adara, “excellent translation. Well done.”

 

Peter looked at her, “you’re French.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, “I’m aware.”

“Then how did you translate that so easily?” He seemed dumbfounded, “I couldn’t do that and I like to think I’m not half bad at Spanish.”

She smirked at him, “I’m fluent in seven languages, Peter, and almost fluent in eight more.”

He gaped, “you’re joking. What are you fluent in?”

“French and English, obviously. But also Spanish, Russian, German, Italian and Mandarin.”

“And what about the other eight? The ones you’re almost fluent in?”

 

“Hindi, Punjabi, Latin, Polish, Korean, Arabic, Bengali and Japanese,” she said, “but the latter is still a work in progress.”

 

“That’s so cool,” he shook his head, “where did you even learn all these languages from?”

“Call it a hobby,” she shrugged, it was only a half-lie.

“Well, I think it’s awesome,” said Peter, before turning back and concentrating on the lesson at hand.

...

A little over one week later:

“Anyway, I’m totally free this weekend if we want to do a movie marathon,” said Ned, “I’ll just come round to yours like we usually do. What are we watching this time.”

 

“Uh, I don’t know,” shrugged Peter, “we did Star Wars last week, so probably something different this time.”

“What about Adara?” Asked his friend, “I mean, she’s sort of been hanging out with us for a while now. We can invite her. Maybe she’ll have a good movie idea.”

“I’d ask her,” said Peter, “but I don’t want to wake her up.”

Adara was sleeping soundly on the cafeteria table and had been for the last ten minutes. This wasn’t the first time either. Peter would often catch her dozing off in Spanish and would have to wake her up before the teacher even noticed. He often wondered how much sleep the dark-haired teenager got. There were no signs of bags under her eyes, but her eyes did seem to be getting dimmer and dimmer as the days went by.

“Maybe she’s like an insomniac or something,” suggested Ned, “wake her up.”

“I don’t know about that,” Peter was unsure, “last time I woke her up in spanish class she took my glasses and threw them across the room before she was even fully conscious.”

“That was hilarious,” remarked Michelle down the table, looking up from her book.

“No, it really wasn’t,” he argued back, “it’s a good thing they didn’t break.”

“I’ll wake her up then,” sighed Ned, reaching over the table to shake the girl, “Adara?”

As per usual, the girl shot up suddenly, going from having her head lying on the table to sitting up straight and alert. At this point, Ned and Peter were used to it.

“Do you have insomnia?” Asked Ned bluntly.

She stared at him for a couple of seconds, eyebrows furrowed. “Um.”

“What?” Peter looked at her, noticing how confused she seemed.

“What’s insomnia?” She asked, her voice quiet and frustrated with herself. If Peter knew one thing, it was that Adara didn’t like not knowing something. Whenever she was stuck on a question or couldn’t work something out, she would spend the rest of the lesson pouting about it.

“Oh it’s a sleeping disorder,” explained Peter, “it’s when you have trouble sleeping.”

“Oh,” now seemed thoroughly annoyed with herself, “c'est l'insomnie. I should’ve figured that out.”

“I can’t blame you, Adara,” he said, “you did only just wake up.”

“I don’t have d'insomnie,” she told the two, “I just haven’t been sleeping great lately.”

“Yes, we know,” Ned rolled his eyes, “you’ve told us that twenty times.”

 

“Anyway,” she fixed them both with a slightly agitated glare through cold, green eyes, “what did you wake me up for? Usually you just let me sleep and wake me up before next lesson.”

“This is about next weekend, actually,” Peter said, “I was wondering if your free,” he quickly realised that it sounded like he was asking her on a date and backtracked, “uh- it’s for a sleepover. Ned and I were planning to marathon some movies or something.”

Adara blinked, “oh, uh, yeah that sounds nice. I’ll have to check with-” she was about to say ‘Natasha and Steve’ but stopped herself. “I’ll have to check first,” she corrected herself.

Peter peered at her curiously. Adara never said much about her home life other than casual mentions here and there about her years in France and being homeschooled. Whenever Ned or Peter pestered her about it, her answers would be fairly vague and open ended, but she would never elaborate. He supposed that he never spoke much about his family either, but Ned knew about his family and Adara had never bothered to ask. He wondered whether she noticed that he would never mention his parents and would only ever bring up his aunt and uncle as looking after him. He wondered whether she would even care.

“Cool,” said Peter, “any movie ideas? The only movie Ned and I can think of is Star Wars, but we’ve seen that around a billion times already. What do you think?”

Seemingly sheepish, Adara looked down at her hands that were resting on the table and then muttered something quietly.

“Uh, what did you say?” Peter stared at her, exchanging glances with Ned who just shrugged.

“I said,” she repeated, louder this time, “I’ve never seen a star wars movie.”

Both Ned and Peter’s jaws dropped and they gaped at Adara like she was some sort of alien. She shuffled a little, meeting their face with an expression of unsureness.

“I mean,” she began, “I’m sure there are a lot of people out there who haven’t seen Star Wars.”

“Yeah,” nodded Ned, “a lot of weirdos. Nevermind Peter, we are definitely watching Star Wars this weekend. Adara needs some movie education.”

“How come you’ve never seen Star Wars before?” Asked Peter.

She shrugged, “guess I never got round to it. If I’m being honest, I don’t know anything about it at all.”

 

“Nothing?” Peter frowned, “really?”

“Well,” she thought about it, “there’s a guy named something Starwalker, right?”

 

Ned looked affronted, “you really don’t know anything. Do you even know the big plot twist?”

Adara was confused, “plot twist?”

“Yeah,” grinned Peter, “we’re definitely doing Star Wars. I’ll text you the times and stuff tonight, that’s if you’re allowed to go.”

She nodded, “I’m sure I’ll be able to go.”

Then, she smiled at him. A genuine one. It lit up her face and made her bright, green eyes even bright.

He was unsure of why it took him so long to realise it but the sudden drop in his stomach told him one thing.

Adara Thomas looked beautiful when she smiled.


	9. Chapter 9

“You’re usually super quiet about school,” Tony said, “and now all of a sudden you want to go to a sleepover with your besties?”

 

“They’re not my besties,” panned Adara, head resting on the crook of her elbow, “I only met Ned and Peter like a week or two ago. They were nice enough to ask, though I think they looked pretty horrified when I told them I’d never seen Star Wars.”

“That’s what you get for being friends with a bunch of nerds,” said Tony with a snort.

“Star wars is like the most mainstream thing ever,” pointed out Bruce, “you’re probably more of a nerd than they are.”

They had just finished eating dinner when Adara had decided to ask about Peter’s earlier request. Right now, only Tony, Bruce, Natasha and Steve were in the tower. 

“Are any girls going?” Asked Steve casually.

“No.”

Steve frowned.

Adara lifted her head up and smiled at him, “Ned and Peter are the two most oblivious boys in the world. They’ll be too absorbed in their dumb movie.”

“And he lives here?” He pointed at the address that Peter had texted her earlier.

She nodded.

Steve glanced back at Natasha who nodded.

“Sure,” she said, “you can go. But there’s one condition.”

“What?”

“You start taking these,” she took a bottle of something out of her pocket and placed it on the table, causing whatever was inside to rattle. Adara picked up the bottle and frowned when she read what was on the packaging. She placed it back on the table and pushed it towards Natasha, glaring at her.

“I don’t need sleeping pills,” she said, “I’m fine.”

 

Everyone around the table looked doubtful at that statement.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, emphasising the last word.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, doubtful.

“Okay,” the teenager sighed, “maybe school is wearing me down a little bit. But that’s just because I’m so busy with homework and stuff,” she leant back on her chair slightly and looked around at all of them. Each one of them were giving her a look that told her that they weren’t gonna budge. “You’re gonna make me take them no matter what?”

There were mutual noddings round the table.

Natasha pushed it towards her, “only one per night.”

Adara sighed, “fine then.”

...

 

A couple days later, Happy’s car drew up outside of Peter’s apartment block, both Steve and Adara sitting in the back seat. This was one of the few car journeys in which she hadn’t fallen asleep. The sleeping pills, though she would never admit it, were helping a lot. She hadn’t had any nightmares either, though was still a little afraid to fall asleep given the lasting trauma the nightmare she had had with Peter had given her. Either way, she had been allowed to go to the sleep over and was now about to go through the most teenager-like thing she had ever done. Gone were her days of stealing purses and drinking booze with James, now she was a student in a fancy high school and attending sleepovers. Oh how far she had fallen.

“So,” said Steve, “we’ll pick you up at twelve tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Try to get some sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Be polite.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t eat too much junk.”

“Okay.”

Steve sighed, “and if they want to do anything, you-”

“Steve,” she cut him off, giving him a look, “I’ll be fine. I can handle myself. I stabbed four guys in an alley once, I can handle two nerdy teenagers in love with some sci-fi series.”

 

“I know, I know,” the super soldier sighed, “I just worry about these things.”

“Yes you do,” she opened the door, “thanks for the ride, Hap. See you at twelve tomorrow.”

“Adara-”

“Bye,” she waved, closing the door in his face before he could finish his sentence.

She walked into the apartment block, backpack slung around one shoulder and hands tucked into her hoodie pockets. She had been simple today with her outfit, choosing a pair of comfortable leggings and a navy hoodie, along with a high ponytail for her long, brown hair. 

She glanced back down at the text holding Peter’s address and quickly located the right room. Unsure of herself, she knocked twice.

She was only waiting a second when the door swung open to reveal a woman who was probably in her late forties or early fifties but was blessed with a body and face that made her much younger than that. She regarded Adara with some sort of surprise.

“You’re a girl,” she said.

Adara frowned, “uh, I think so.”

“Ben,” she called out to someone inside the apartment, “Peter’s friend is a girl!”

 

“What?” Called a male voice from the background, “a girl?”

Then, a more familiar voice, “oh, my God! Aunt May!”

Peter suddenly appeared at the door to see a beaming May Parker and a slightly bewildered, but slightly amused Adara Thomas smirking at him. He noticed that she looked a lot more awake than she had ever done before and her green eyes were sparkling. They were very strange green eyes. Most people with green eyes usually had a little blue or hazel colour in them but not Adara. Her eyes were an unmistakingly vivid shade of green. He then realised that he was looking into her eyes for a weirdly long amount of time.

“I’m Adara Thomas,” she said, “and I guess you’re Mrs Parker.”

“I am,” she smiled, though was slightly taken back by the girl’s accent, “but call me May. Where are you from? France?”

“That is where I was born,” nodded Adara.

“Wow, I’ve always wanted to go to France.”

 

“It’s a very nice place,” she agreed, “did Peter not tell you about me?”

“No, he did,” May nodded, “but he never gave any detail about this ‘other friend,’ and he used ‘they’ pronouns so I just presumed it was another Ned. I was wrong! Here I was thinking that Peter would never get over his crush on Liz Allan despite her being in high school, now he’s met you!”

 

“May,” said Peter weakly, “can you just let her in now?”

“Oh yeah, of course,” she said, standing out the way of the entrance. 

Adara walked in and took in the atmosphere of the place. It was nice and homely, a lot cosier than the tower. The furniture was very closely packed into a small living space, complete with a couch and a couple armchairs, as well as a decent sized tv playing crappy day time tv. There was one man already sitting on the couch who the same age as his wife, though his dark hair was showing signs of growing, grey hairs.  
“You have a lovely home,” she complimented.

“And she’s polite!” Exclaimed the man from the sofa, “Ben Parker, by the way, Peter’s uncle.”

“Nice to meet you,” she smiled at him.

“Come on, Adara,” said Peter, pulling on her arm, “let’s go.”

She allowed herself to be tugged into his room, only to see Ned already sitting on the bottom bunk of a bunk bed.

“Hey, Ned,” she greeted, sitting down, “your aunt and uncle are nice, Peter.”

“And embarrassing,” he said, closing the door, “they made me seem like I’d never talked a girl before.”

She raised an eyebrow, “who’s Liz Allan?”

“Doesn’t matter,” muttered Peter.

Adara glanced around. The room was not large but all three of them fit in it comfortably. The walls were decorated with posters of movies and other things as well shelves decorated with action figures as well as scattered chess pieces lying around on the floor. 

“I haven’t cleaned in awhile,” said Peter when she noticed her looking, “I mean, usually it’s in a much worse state than this.”

“It is fine,” and Peter noticed the way her accent meant she would put a heavy emphasis on the word ‘is.’ “I am not bothered by mess.”

“Have you really never seen Star Wars?” Asked Ned.

“No,” she shrugged.

“Why not? I mean, everyone has seen star wars,” the boy stated it like it was a fact, “I mean, you don’t even know the big plot twist at the end of the second movie and even someone who hasn’t seen it at least knows what happens.”

Adara had not seen Star Wars or maybe she had. Her parents might have shown it to her when they were alive, but that was too long ago to remember. Hydra obviously had not shown her any films. In fact, her first memory of ever watching a movie came from the foster home when it had been her first day there, and the kids had wanted to watch High School Musical. Adara had hated it and hadn’t watched many movies since that experience. But, she was sure that there were far better movies than High School Musical, at least she hoped there was.

“I just never got around to seeing it,” she lied, “it must not be as big in France as it is in England.”

France was part of the western world and had basically absorbed all of western mainstream media, including Star Wars. The space opera was just as big there as it was in America or any other English speaking countries.

“Well, you’re seeing it now,” Peter declared, “so it’s not like it matters.”

“Plus, I bought snacks!” Announced Ned, now emptying the unhealthy contents of his backpack on the floor, “so can we start?”

...

“He fell asleep in the last five minutes of the movie,” observed Peter, “can’t blame him, it’s almost three o’clock in the morning. We can watch the last movie tomorrow morning before you go home. What did you think?”

Adara, who was sitting on the top bunk of the bed beside Peter, leaned over the barrier to look down at the sleeping Ned.

“It was a good movie,” she nodded, turning back towards him, “better than most of the shit I’ve seen. Though, the plot twist is sort of predictable when you realise that ‘Vader’ sounds like ‘Vater.’”

“Vater?” He repeated, frowning.

“It means father in German,” she told him.

He sighed, “I forgot how good you were with language. But I guess it’s pretty cool.”

 

“I’m not saying I saw the twist coming,” she told him, “it’s just when you think about it, there were actually very subtle clues in the movie leading to it.”

 

“Have you watched many movies?” Asked Peter.

“Not really, I prefer reading. Plus, my hobby is language, not cinema going.”

“Movies are better than books,” he argued, “they’re more appealing to watch and a lot less effort than reading. Not saying I hate books, I’d just prefer to watch a film.”

 

“I suppose,” she shrugged, “but there’s more freedom with books. You get to picture the characters how you perceive them.”

“I guess, but I’d rather see a character than think about a character.”

“You make a good argument,” she said, “I have not watched enough movies, so I shouldn’t make a decision just yet.”

“What are we going to do about sleep?” Peter wondered out loud, “I mean, I was gonna share the top bunk with Ned but I don’t really want to wake him up.”

“I can think of a solution,” she said simply. She picked up one pillow from one end of the bed and put it at the other end. “You sleep at that end, I sleep on this end.”

“Oh,” he looked a little sheepish, “I guess that was sort of obvious.”

Adara looked hesitantly at the pillow, thinking about sleep for a moment. This would be the first night she would sleep without her sleeping pills and she wasn’t sure whether she liked that idea or not. Obviously she hadn’t wanted to take them to the sleepover, she didn’t want either teenager to ask questions about it. But, now that she thought about it, she was thinking about having a nightmare in front of Peter, that would be embarrassing and would raise questions. Natasha said that she would talk, often shout, in her sleep and the last thing she wanted to was wake up the entire house.

“Are you okay, Adara?” He asked.

“Fine,” she shook her head, “just thinking.”

She rested her head against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. Her face was right next to the window, but the blinds were drawn shut. She could still hear the movement of traffic outside, but it was faint and distant. For a couple minutes, the only sound were Ned’s faint snores that were low enough volume that they would just fade into the background. 

And, of course, she was thinking. This time it was about a question that had been bugging her for a while. She had vaguely noticed that Peter would never mention ‘mom’ or ‘dad,’ however, would refer to his aunt or uncle. Coming round to his house had really confirmed her suspicions and several theories were running through her mind. It was possible that his parents just didn’t want him or were to busy to look after him. Then, there was the other possibility. That they were dead. She didn’t get an orphan vibe off of Peter but, then again, she didn’t give off that vibe either and she was definitely an orphan.

It was probably rude to ask. Or, more accurately, none of her business. But curiosity got the best of her.

“Peter?” She asked him softly.

“Yeah?” He replied from the other end of the bed.

“Why do you live with your aunt and uncle?” 

Silence and she wondered if she was prying.

“My parents died when I was really young, four, I think.” He said eventually, “in a plane crash, long time ago. They had been going somewhere, I can’t remember where, and they dropped my off at Uncle Ben and Aunt May’s place. Next day a man comes to a door, tells us what happened to them. And, that’s how I ended up here.”

“Oh,” she said, so he was an orphan. “I’m sorry, Peter.” 

“It’s fine,” he said, “I don’t even remember them that well.”

“Doesn’t that make it worse?” She asked without realising what she was saying, “not knowing them before they died.”

“I guess, in a way,” he shrugged before realising it was too dark for her to see him, “it makes it less painful to think about. Plus, I’ve got Ben and May. They’re the two greatest people I ever knew.”

“That’s nice,” she said, “to have two people who will always be there for you.”

When her parents died, she had no one but Hydra.

“I don’t know what I would do with myself if they died,” he admitted, “they’ve always been there for me. I’m not even their kid but they treat me like I am.”

“You’re their family. Family is important to anyone.”

“It’s important to everyone,” agreed Peter.

Silence for a little longer. Adara thought before speaking again.

“I- uh- lost my parents too,” she said, “when I was six.”

“I thought you said that you moved with them to America when you were six.”

“I lied,” she said, still not prepared to admit the full truth, “I moved to America because my relatives lived here. They were the only people who were still related to me after they-” she cleared her throat, “after they died.”

“Why did you lie?” He asked gently.

“I don’t know,” she said.

Peter thought about this, wondering whether or not it would be rude to ask what he was about to ask. He hadn’t known the girl for long but it felt like the two were really opening up to one another. Then again, he didn’t want to push her into telling him something she would’ve prepared to keep quiet. Was it worth a try?

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he began, “how did they-”

 

“How did they die?” She finished and thought about it before deciding to be as honest as she could, “uh, they were murdered. Shot to death.”

“Oh, God,” Peter murmured, “that’s horrible.”

“A man broke into out house,” Adara kept it as vague as possible, “we hid underneath the floorboard but I made too much noise and gave us away. He killed them.”

“In front of you?”

“In front of me.”

“Adara, that’s horrible,” Peter breathed, “like, it’s really awful.”

“They were good people,” she said, her tone neutral sounding when, in fact, Peter couldn’t see her eyes watering in the dark. “We lived in a little cottage near the alps. We lived near this big ski resort. They took me skiing once and I saw Mont Blanc, ever heard of it?”

“It’s a mountain, isn’t it?”

 

“The biggest mountain in the alps,” she nodded, “right on the border between France and Italy. I can remember seeing it from the cafe we were in. It’s one of my few memories with them.”

“A happy memory?”

“My favourite memory.”

Silence fell between them again and Peter was surprised at how much Adara was telling him.

“That’s why I’m so tired at school,” she said, starting the conversation again, “because I have nightmares, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“And I had this nightmare, a couple days into school,” she swallowed, “you were in it.”

 

“Me?” Peter wasn’t sure whether he like the idea of him being in one of her nightmares, especially after hearing the hesitance in her voice as she said it. “What happened?”

“Uh-” she began before stopping, “you probably wouldn’t want to know.”

“Right,” said Peter, not wanting to push it.

Another few seconds of quiet.

“Can you keep this between us?” Asked Adara, “about my parents and the whole deal with the nightmares.”

“Yeah, of course,” Peter said, “don’t worry, I get it.”

“Thanks, Pete.”

“Pete?”

“Can I call you that?”

“Only Uncle Ben calls me that, sometimes.”

 

“Huh,” she frowned, “I thought it would be a bit more of a popular nickname.”

 

“If you call me Pete, I’ll give you a nickname too.”

“Like what?”

“Um, like Dara or something.”

There was a quiet but sweet-sounding laugh from Adara. “Dara?”

“Yeah, Dara. Sounds like Dora. You know, Dora the Explorer.”

“I have no idea who that is.”

 

He smiled to himself, “night, Dara.”

She laughed again, “yeah. Night, Pete.”

...

She had not slept well. The entire night had involved her fading in and out of conscious, having delirious dreams of the fictional universe of ‘Star Wars’ mixing with the real one. The uncomfortableness of the sleeping arrangement did very little to make her sleep anymore restful. 

So, when she had heard a strange thunk in the night, she had woken up straight away.

Sitting up in silence, she listened out for any other noises and, sure enough, she heard footsteps. 

At first, she ignored it as either May or Ben going to the toilet or something but, as she listened more, something was wrong. Whoever it was didn’t seem familiar with the layout of the house as Adara heard repeated thunks of the sound of someone walking into something and small hisses of pain. Frowning, she listened closer. If Hydra had taught her anything, it was to investigate anything she found suspicious and she definitely found this suspicious.

Carefully, she climbed down from the top bunk, her feet making no sound as they hit the floor. Peter and Ned did not stir. She crept towards the door, glancing through the keyhole.

She could just about make out a dark figure that definitely did not look like he was going to the toilet. The man had his back to the room and seemed to be messing with some cables. Cables for the television. This wasn’t the nicest part of Queens, but it wasn’t a particularly awful area either, so Adara was surprised that a robber was breaking into the apartment.

Then, another thought struck her. Was it really a coincidence that someone was breaking into the apartment the night that she was supposed to be having a sleepover? Or was she just thinking too much into it? Either way, she felt on edge.

She reached for her backpack, opening the front pocket and drawing out the knife she carried out around with her.

Slowly and surely, she opened the door, hiding the knife in her sleeve, and stood up to her full height, plan in mind. She needed a way to find out any weapons he might have hidden without having him attack her. She also needed to know whether she worked for Hydra or not.

She walked out into the living space and feigned a gasp of shock, “oh, my god,” she whispered.

The man swiveled around. He was wearing all black, completed with a hood over his head, but did nothing to hide his face. He was a large, dim-looking white man with a shaved head and the signs of a blonde stubble. From his expression, she could instantly tell that he was some amateur robber, as he looked startled and showed no signs of recognition when he saw Adara. 

However, he still drew out a handgun from his pocket, “stay where you are and keep your mouth shut or I’ll shoot.”

She froze, “of course, mr robber, I won’t move. I just wanted to go to the toilet but-”

“I said shut it, bitch.”

 

She faked a flinch of fear and nodded, sealing her mouth shut.

Glancing to the side, her mind registered an open window. It must have not been locked or he had picked the lock, though he did look a little too dim to do that. Either way, he had a gun, which was one good reason to stay silent. She had no doubt that, if any one else was to walk out, they might get shot in his panic.

The man was obviously deciding what to do with her and she quickly came to the conclusion that there was no way that this man could be Hydra. Hydra was filled with much smarter people than this.

“You’re gonna stay there,” he said, “and you’re not gonna say a word until I’m out of here. Got it, slut?”

She forced herself to shake in fear rather than roll her eyes. She nodded very quickly.

The imbosel, as she had nicknamed him in her head, turned away, gun still aimed at her, and used one hand to try and lift the table. At a volume that was so quiet even Natasha would be impressed, she slid ever so slightly closer to him, but not at an alarmly quick rate. He, at a ridiculously loud volume for someone trying to rob a house quietly, picked up the small tv and, for some reason, decided he had to do it with two hands. As he used both hands, his gun was lowered and she took the opportunity to inch closer so she was right behind him.

“Salut!” She greeted loudly.

Alarmed he dropped the tv with a clatter and pointed the barrel right in her face.

Right as he fired, she grabbed his wrist and pointed the weapon towards the floor. It went of with a ringing bang that probably woke everyone in the building up. But, not letting herself get distracted, she send a harsh kick to the back of his legs and wrenched the gun out of his grasp. Then, before he could register anything, she used the end of the handle of the gun to hit him over the head. He fell to the ground, dazed.

She crouched down to him.

“You picked the wrong apartment, motherfucker,” she whispered before punching him in the head, knocking him out.

“Adara!” Shouted a voice and Adara turned to see Peter and Ned tumbling out of their bedroom, quickly followed by Ben and May coming out of their own room.

The lights switched on and she squinted, eyes adjusting. The teenager stood up quickly before gesturing to the television.

“I think the TV’s broken,” she said, “he dropped it.”

“What happened?” Peter managed to blurt out, staring gobsmacked at the sight of it all.

“He was trying to steal the tv,” she stated it, as though it was obvious, “I knocked him out. Oh, and he had a gun. Should I call the police?”

“Uh- no, don’t worry,” said May, “I’ll do it.” The woman quickly hurried off to where she had left her cellphone and was preoccupied as she dialed ‘911.’

“You knocked him out?” Exclaimed Ned, “that’s badass.”

“We left the window opened,” grumbled Ben, not looking happy at being woken up, “sorry about that, Adara.”

“It’s fine, I handled him.”

“But he fired the gun,” Peter said, “it woke us up.”

“He did, but I was so close to him that I pushed his arm so he aimed at the ground,” she told him, “see, you can see the bullet in the carpet.”

No one moved, all staring cautiously at he knocked out man.

She looked at him and then back up at the group and sighing, “the police are probably going to want to talk to me about this, aren’t they?”

...

Natasha had been woken up by the phone ringing. She was a light sleeper, so she had heard it go from the first ring. Groaning, she fumbled for it in the dark, quickly feeling the cold, metallic rectangle and glancing at the screen and feeling slightly annoyed.

“Adara, it’s nearly five o’clock in the morning,” she said after accepting the call, switching on the light and rubbing her eyes, “please don’t tell me they kicked you out?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” said Adara, sounding slightly nervous.

The redhead sat up straight, “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” she said, “but I do technically need an adult guardian with me when I talk to the police.”

“A-” But Natasha stopped and placed her head against the wall, “Please tell me you didn’t stab anyone.”

“No,” the teenager snorted dismissively, “someone broke into the apartment so-”

“Someone broke into the apartment?” she raised an eyebrow, “Was it-”

“No, I don’t think he was Hydra,” came a relieving answer, “he was too dumb to ever be hired by them. Anyway, he broke into their apartment because the window was open and tried to steal the tv. I heard him and stopped him. Anyway, I think the police are gonna want an explanation to how I knocked out a man twice my height and weight without getting hurt myself.”

“Right,” she rubbed the bridge of her nose, “Steve is gonna kill you for this.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll tell him in the morning. Anyway, can you come to the police station. In disguise, obviously.” The girl sounded far too awake for Natasha’s taste.

“Right,” she was getting up, “I’ll be there in around twenty minutes, I need to find a disguise and some fake papers or something.”

“Alright, see you then,” she said, “and sorry for waking you up, I guess.”

She ended the phone call there and the room became silent.

Natasha sighed.

“This girl is going to be the death of me.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, this is gonna have to be the last chapter I put up before I go to bed because I have a Biology test tomorrow :/  
> Actually, this is a really convenient point to end it on, considering (I think) the next chapter is the Age of Ultron storyline

How? How? How did she do it? Peter knew that if he had ever been face with a similar situation to Adara, with a gun pointed right at him, he would’ve wet himself. Yet, somehow, the thirteen-year-old girl seemed to have more balls than he did and had easily taken down the burglar with little effort. He wasn’t going to lie, he was jealous of that kind of skill. Where had she even learnt to do that? He thought that Adara had opened up to her last night, turns out there were still many things he still didn’t know about the dark haired teenager.

He was waiting with Uncle Ben and Aunt May in the police station, Ned had since gone home. Adara too was waiting, she had called up one of her relatives earlier and had then been perfectly to sit patiently waiting for them. Peter was less patient, he was fidgeting around a lot, waiting for the officer. Obviously, he wouldn’t be the one being questioned in this case, it would be his parents. Adara would also be getting questioned once her own guardian showed up.

The door to the station swung open.

“Adara,” greeted a long, black haired woman wearing glasses, “Est ce que ça va?” Peter roughly translated it to ‘are you okay?’

“Oui, oui,” nodded Adara before going into full blown french that Peter couldn’t even dream of understanding, “J'ai déménagé en Amérique quand j'avais six ans après la mort de mes parents. Je vis maintenant avec une famille éloignée et j'ai été à la maison-école la plupart de ma vie. Tu n'es pas marié.”

Little did Peter or May or Ben know, Adara had just given Natasha her entire fake backstory. Luckily, the redhead, now wearing a wig, absorbed the information quickly and nodded. She turned to May with a smile on her face.

“My name is Allie Thomas,” she said and he noticed that her voice carried no accent, “sorry to hear what happened to your home.”

“Nothing was stolen,” assured May, “thanks to your daughter.”

 

“My niece, actually,” she corrected, “and you must be Peter’s aunt and uncle?”

Peter looked up, surprised the woman knew him by name. There was something familiar about her face, she reminded him of a celebrity of some sorts. She did look very rich. She was wearing a green, expensive looking jacket with a low cut black top and leggings, matched with some expensive looking flat shoes. She had green eyes but they were different to Adara’s. They carried hints of blue and brown whilst Adara’s did not.

“Yes, my name is May Parker and this is my husband Ben.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you I-”

“Excuse me, are you Miss Thomas’ guardian?” Asked a grumpy looking NYPD officer in his mid-thirties.

“Yes, I am,” she gestured for Adara to stand up, “I’m guessing you want to ask us some questions.”

 

“Yes, if you’d please come this way.”

Adara gave Peter a surprisingly confident smile for someone who was just about to be interviewed by the police. He smiled back with a little more hesitance before she vanished around a corner. The room she was lead into was a small, warmly lit office with a man already sat at the desk, tapping away on his laptop. He looked up when he saw the two enter the room.

“Ah, Miss Thomas and the other Miss Thomas,” said the man, “take a seat. I’m Chief Raymond, I just need to ask a few questions.”

“Of course,” said ‘Allie.’

“First of all,” he began, “you are her aunt, correct?”

Natasha nodded, “she has been living with me since she was six.”

“And was homeschooled most of her life?”

 

“Yes, how is this relevant?”

“My apologies, miss,” Raymond said, “we just need to do basic background checks. Both of her parents are deceased.”

“Yep.”

“And how were they related to you?”

“I was her father’s sister.”

“Okay,” he finished typing something up onto his laptop, “now, we just need to ask you couple questions about the circumstances of the attempted burglary. Is that okay, Adara?”

 

The teenager nodded.

“Around what time did you fall asleep?” He asked.

“Around three, I think, we’d just finished watching a movie.”

 

“And what woke you up?”

“Well, I wasn’t sleeping great,” she ignored the look Natasha gave her as she said that, “and then I heard someone walking around. At first I thought it was just the building creaking so I got up because I needed the toilet.”

“And then what happened?”

 

“I walked out to see this man crouched over the tv, trying to unplug it from the wall,” Adara said it with no emotion in her voice whatsoever, “he heard me and pointed a gun in my face?”

 

“And you weren’t scared.”

“I was a little,” she lied.

“Did he say anything to you?”

“He told me to not make a sound or he’ll shoot me,” she told him, “then, for some reason, he turned his back to me.”

“So what did you do?”

“Well, I moved towards him until I was right behind him. Then, he turned around and tried to shoot at me, but I pushed his arm so he hit the floor. Then, I kicked him in the back of the legs, grabbed his gun and hit him over the head with it.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow and looked at the teen who shrugged.

“Oh,” Raymond stopped typing to look at her, “how old were you again?”

“Thirteen.”

 

“And how did you know what to do?”

“I taught her basic self defence,” Natasha answered this time, “just in case.”

“Well, Miss Thomas, your daught-” he cut himself off, “uh, niece, managed to prevent a robbery as well as apprehending a known criminal, you must be very proud.”

“I am,” she nodded, before turning to her, “Steve va être énervé.” (Steve will be pissed off).

Adara’s smug smile quickly turned into a frown.

 

“Your phone’s ringing,” stated Adara.

“I know,” said Natasha, handing to her, “it’s Steve, you can deal with him.”

“Great,” she muttered, swiping to accept the phone call, “hey-”

 

“Natasha?” He didn’t sound happy.

“She’s driving, it’s Adara,” she answered.

“Put it on speaker then,” he said and she did so, “Natasha, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Because I can deal with these kind of things,” the redhead answered nonchalantly.

“What even happened? I asked Tony and he just told me that you had to go because Adara had got herself into some kind of mess. What did she do?”

“A man broke into the Parker’s house.”

 

“What?” Steve seemed suddenly tense, “was it Hydra?”

“No,” answered Adara, “just some idiot. I took him out, don’t worry about it.”

“And you’re sure he wasn’t Hydra?”

“Positive, Steve,” she assured him, “Hydra would never hire an idiot like that, he didn’t know who I was and was completely incapable of doing anything, even stealing a television.”

“But-”

“Believe me, Steve, I know Hydra. Why would they hire a guy to do something as pointless as that?”

...

And Adara was right. Why would Hydra want to hire someone to steal a tv? However, what she didn’t anticipate that, whilst they hadn’t hired the burglar to steal the television, they had certainly had a hand in the event. Sometimes, all it took was the temptation of an ‘accidentally’ left open window and a robber pumped with cheap drugs to create a useful situation. Whilst Uncle Ben might easily blame himself for ‘foolishly’ leaving the window open, the reality was that he did close it, Hydra was just very good at picking locks.

Chief Raymond, a well respected man as well as the officer who had interviewed Adara and ‘Allie’ Thomas, had dialed a number into his burner phone the moment the two had left to head back.

“Raymond,” said a voice from the other end of the line with distinct New Yorkian accent, “how did it go?”

“The plan worked, General,” responded the respectable chief of police, “we unlocked the window and the idiot noticed and broke in.”

 

“What about the girl?”

“She took him down easily,” he snorted, “didn’t seem to be suspicious at all.”

“So that means out information was right,” responded the voice, “she is attending a public school, not to mention she’s been moved from the foster home. What was her fake story?”

“Apparently she moved to America when she was six-years-old to live with her ‘aunt Allie’ after her parents death. She’s kept the same name, though. Obviously, she’s convinced she’s safe from Hydra, otherwise she would’ve moved to the otherside of the world.”

“Address?”

“I’ve got it, but it’s a fake.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Her Aunt ‘Allie’ definitely isn’t a woman to be living in a small town house in Queens. If anything, her name definitely isn’t Allie.”

The voice let out an annoyed grunt, “who is it then?”

“She was wearing a disguise that had me fooled for a few minutes,” Raymond told him, “but, I eventually figured it was the Black Widow herself.”

“Natasha Romanoff?”

“The one and only,” he nodded, despite the fact that he was on the phone, “looks like your experiment is living with the Avengers. Which means she, and anyone else around her, is automatically under their watch.”

There was a long amount of silence.

“Sir?” Raymond asked after a minute of no response.

He laughed, “give it some time, let them get comfortable. We’ll get her back.”

“Sir, is it even worth it?” Raymond asked cautiously, “I mean-”

“It’s worth it, Raymond,” He reassured him, “that girl’s powers makes her unstoppable. I trained her to be unstoppable.”

“I don’t understand-”

 

“Use your tiny brain and think about it,” the voice spoke down to him as though he were a child, “shape-shifting is one, if not, the most useful ability on the planet. Under our orders, she would easily be able to transform into the president himself and…”

 

“She would have access to all Nuclear weapons and the US military.”

“Exactly,” the voice on the other end hummed, “she’ll be the key to Hydra’s rise, under my control. Now, we’ll give it a year or so, let her get comfortable. Then, we strike. Understand, Raymond?”

“Yes, Luka.”

“Good, I’ll contact you in a few weeks time.”

...

“Hey, ‘Dara,” it was Monday morning after the sleepover and Peter had spotted the girl leaving her car just outside the school and had wondered up to her.

She glanced up in surprise when she realised he was sticking with the nickname, “bonjour, Pete. How are you?”

“Fine,” he shrugged before remembering something, “oh, I needed to give you these.”

 

He opened up his bag and found the box of chocolates he had stuffed in their this morning as well as card. She took them and raised an eyebrow.

“Last time I checked, it wasn’t Valentine’s day,” she said, teasing in her voice.

“Oh, no” he shook his head vigorously, a growing blush on his face, “they aren’t from me. Uh, May told me to give them to you, as a thank you for what you for stopping the tv getting stolen.”

“I figured, Pete,” she smiled at him, “what’s that English expression? I was just pulling your leg.”

The two began to walk towards the school and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “uh, right. Sorry we left the window open, by the way, it sorta ruined the whole sleepover. Especially since we never got to watch the last movie.”

Adara just looked amused, “it is okay. I watched the last one when I got home anyway.”

For some strange reason, Peter couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He had enjoyed watching Star Wars with her and seeing her reactions to it but at least now she was a little more educated when it came to films. 

“What did you think?” He asked.

“Good, especially the ending. But, it was not as good as the first two.”

He nodded agreeing with that and was prepared to say something more when a short stature burst into view.

“Hey, Penis Parker,” said Flash, “and Adara.”

The girl rolled her eyes but said nothing.

“What do you want, Flash?” Peter asked with an annoyed tone, trying not to come off as intimidated in front of Adara.

“Well, Leeds was just telling me an interesting story about a sleepover,” Flash snorted, “I can’t believe you let a girl fight a burglar for you!”

Adara frowned, “what do you mean? He didn’t ‘let’ me do it, he was asleep.”

“Sure,” Flash snorted, “I’m sure that was what he wanted you to think.”

 

The girl sneered at him, “even so, why do you look down on him? Do you think you could’ve taken the burglar down?”

“Obviously,” Flash looked at his friends who all nodded in agreement, “if a girl could take him down, then I could too, easily.”

“Oh,” she raised an eyebrow, “does that mean you think that you could take me down in a fight?”

“Uh, yeah, obviously,” the boy nodded.

Peter doubted he could and, from the smug look on Adara’s face, he knew that she knew that she though that too.

“Okay then,” she smiled, “how about this, after last period you meet me in that back alley behind the school and then we’ll see who wins.”

Flash looked hesitant, “I don’t like hitting girls.”

“Mauviette,” she muttered, “more like you’re scared of getting beaten by a girl.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then do it,” she glared down at him mildly. A crowd had begun to form around the three of them, Peter noticed, and all of them were looking keenly onto the conversation, excitedly muttering between them.

After a couple seconds of silence, he nodded. “Deal, what do I get when I win?” He smirked.

“If you win,” she looked at him, “I’ll go on a date you,” and there was a wolf whistle from the crowd.

“What?” Exclaimed Peter but Adara elbowed him in the ribs.

“And if I win,” she continued, “you have to leave Peter, Ned and I alone for the rest of the year, deal?”

He nodded, “deal, I’ll be looking forward to our date.”

She raised an eyebrow, “don’t get your hopes up. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to be going to my locker. Remember, behind the school after last period. See you then, Flash.”

She elbowed past him, Peter quickly following a couple paces behind. He had to jog a little to catch up with her. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” He asked, “I mean, not that I don’t want Flash to get what’s coming to him but what if a teacher gets word of this because there’s definitely gonna be a crowd.”

“We’re not doing it on school property,” she pointed out, pushing the door open, “and we’re not doing it during school time. Plus it’s that back alley, you know, the one where all those edgy teenagers smoke? Don’t panic, all the teachers are too scared to go back there anyway. Plus, it’s not like you’ll be the one getting into trouble.”

 

“I don’t want you getting into trouble either.”

 

She shoved past some eleven year old kids, “good to know you’re looking out for me.”

 

“Yeah, well, someone has to,” he muttered, “first you’re taking down TV robbers and next you’re beating up Flash,” he then gave her a smile, “someone needs to stop you from taking over the world.”

The dark haired girl just smirked in her usual, strangely mysterious way, “thanks, Pete.”

 

“No problem, Dara.”

...

 

Adara: I’m gonna be late out after school today.

Happy: Why?

Adara: Talking to a teacher about something. Don’t tell Steve! 

Happy: Okay, but don’t take too long otherwise I’ll let some other, less good, driver start picking you up and dropping you off.

Adara: Don’t worry, I’ll be as quick!

 

“Who are you texting?” Asked Ned.

“Someone,” she answered vaguely, “just telling them I’m gonna be late out of school.”

Peter wasn’t listening, he was thinking about the fight that was only ten minutes away. They were in their spanish class and, at this point, the entirety of their grade had basically caught word of the fight and had been gossiping about it all day. The general consensus, amusingly, was that people wanted Flash to get his ass handed to him but, much to both Peter and Adara’s annoyance, they also believed that was not going to be what happened. Flash’s little posey had been spreading rumours of his attendance at ‘fighting’ classes which Peter doubted was true.

“Have you finished the work?” Asked the teacher suddenly, drawing Peter out of his thoughts.

Adara, who had quickly shoved her phone away, nodded, “yeah.”

“Let me look,” Adara handed her sheet to her which she spent a minute inspecting before nodding, “good work as always. And you, Mr Parker?”

“Uh- yeah, nearly.”

“Nearly isn’t good enough,” she said, shaking her head, “I expect to see it done in the next five minutes or you’ll have to finish it after class.”

“Yes, miss,” he said and she walked away. “God, I don’t know why she likes you but hates me.”

 

“Try being fluent in Spanish,” she took his sheet off of him and began to read it, “then she’ll like you,” she pointed at two of his answers, “Those two are translated in the wrong tense.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Hey, I’m only trying to help.”

 

“I know, I know,” he nodded and went back to correct them.

Luckily, he did get the work done on time and, the moment the bell rang, everyone began hurrying out the classroom. Adara, as usual, was two steps ahead of everyone else and, by the time Ned and Peter had caught up with her, she was already slamming her locker shut. 

“Is this really happening?” Asked Ned, big grin on his face.

“Yep,” she nodded popping the ‘p,’ “ready? Let’s go.”

As the three walked, with a considerable crowd behind them, Ned would not stop asking questions.

“What if you lose? Will you really go on a date with him?”

“I’m not going to lose,” she assured him with an untouchable amount of confidence, “I would rather die than lose to Flash Thompson.”

“But what if you so lose?” Ned continued to pester.

“Ned Leeds, I took down a man with a gun who was double my height and weight,” she snorted dismissively, “I’m sure I can handle some middle schooler.”

“That whole thing with the burglar might’ve have been luck,” suggested Ned.

Adara sent him a vaguely agitated look over her shoulder, “I can assure you that is definitely was not luck.” But she didn’t elaborate.

By the time they reached an alley, there were already a small group of people anxiously waiting for the fight to start. Flash, of course, was giving Adara a smug look, seemingly sure that he would win. If anything, Peter was worried whether or not he’d come out of this alive. 

“Adara,” he greeted, “good to see you didn’t chicken out.”

“Why would I?” She looked confused.

“Because I’m pretty tough looking.”

Everyone in the crowd looked at each other as if to say ‘is this kid serious?’ Adara, without warning, took off her backpack and shoved it in Peter’s chest, pushing her dark, brown hair up into a ponytail before cracking her knuckles. Flash watched this happen with the slightest look of hesitance on his face before quickly replacing it with a look of self-assured victory.

“Rules, then,” said Adara, “doesn’t matter who wins or loses, and this goes to anyone watching too,” her green gaze swept across the growing group of onlookers huddled in the alley, “no one is to tell a teacher or any adult a thing. You can film this but no putting it up on any social medias, because that’s stupid. Neither Flash or I are getting in trouble for this, understand?”

There was a nod.

“As for the actual fight,” she looked thoughtful, “what do you think, Flash, do we fight until someone gets knocked out.”

The boy shook his head with great vigour, “No way, I don’t want to have to knock you out.”

“I mean, that wouldn’t end up happening but okay,” she hummed, “how about we fight for a couple of minutes and, at the end of that, we see if there’s an obvious winner.”

He nodded, “sounds good.”

Adara glanced around, “anyone got a timer on their phone?”

“I do,” said Ned quickly, “lemme get it up.”

“Set it to two minutes,” her cold, green gaze flickered back to Flash, “and tell us when to go.”

“Okay,” said Peter’s friend, “three… two… one… go!”

Neither moved and Flash raised his hands, “I don’t want to have to hit a girl.”

Little did he know that this ‘girl’ was a shapeshifter who watched her parents die in front of her before being trained by Hydra themselves. Then, after that, lived on the street for six months on the run from the said organisation. Not to mention the time she had stabbed two guys to death. But she wasn’t gonna say that outloud. 

“What are you?” She sneered, “a pussy? We have two minutes. Make the first fucking move or I’ll knock you out cold.”

 

“Fine,” he said before clumsily swinging his fist.

Without moving from the spot where she stood, Adara caught it in mid air and twisted it. He let out a surprised screech of pain but, before he could do anything about it, she sent a solid kick to his stomach, knocking him to the ground.

“Come on,” she said, “I’m going easy on you, Flash. I expected a little bit more.”

Angered further by this, the teenage boy jumped to his feet and tried to make a grab for her ponytail, a move which Peter found fairly pathetic, she slid to the side and let out a heavy sigh. Determined, Flash grabbed onto her shoulder with his left hand and attempted to hold her there whilst sending a punch directly at her face. Adara ducked down and his balled hand went flying over her head. Without flinching once, she grabbed it and darted behind his back so she was holding his arm there. He tugged it from her grip but, at this point, it was useless as she maneuvered him into a headlock and then twisted her body backwards, throwing him to the ground.

He struggled back to his face but, at this point, Adara was done messing around. She sent a solid punch to his jaw followed by a kick in the crotch and the boy let out a gasp of pain.

“Times up!” Said Ned.

“No offence,” said one voice from the crowd, “but I think the winner’s kinda obvious.”

“No fair!” Complained Flash.

“How is it not fair, Flash?” Said Adara, “or are you just too embarrassed to admit that you lost to a girl. Now, are you gonna stick to the deal and leave or alone? Or do you want another bruise on your dick?”

He blushed, embarrassed and annoyed. “Fine,” he snapped, “but, next year, I’ll get you back for this.”

She snorted, “I’m sure you will. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to head home now.”

She pushed through the crowd, not even bothering to look back over her shoulder and the brooding Flash behind her as she made her way over to Happy’s car. Then, suddenly, she paused, glancing over her shoulder. A strange feeling washed over her, like she was being followed.

“I’m safe,” she whispered to herself, “I’ve got Natasha and Steve and the rest of them. Je suis sauf.”

But her words felt empty.

She began to walk back towards where the car was parked and waiting.


	11. Chapter 11

April 28th, 2015

"Stop tapping," said Peter quietly through gritted teeth, "this is a test."

It was a Tuesday afternoon and Adara had been on edge all day. Despite the fact she was in the middle of a Spanish exam, she was growing more and more anxious by the minute. She, of course, had asked Natasha if she could stay at the tower and wait for them to get back from their mission in Sokovia but she and Steve had firmly told her that, unless she was dying, she would go to school. She had spent most of the day on edge, waiting for a text to give her bad news. Nothing yet.

"Dara," Peter hissed and she jumped.

"What?" She snapped back before checking the teacher hadn't noticed.

"Your test," he said, "you've been staring into space and tapping your pen for the last fifteen minutes and you haven't even finished your first paragraph yet. You have ten minutes left."

"Merde," she cursed under her breath before smiling at him, "it's fine. Spanish is like a second or third or fourth language to me. I'll have it done in five minutes."

He glared, "yeah, I get it, you're a linguistic genius. Now are you gonna finish it or what?"

She just rolled her eyes and quickly got back to work, writing down the most complex Spanish sentences she could think of. The exam was to write five paragraphs about your family and friends, easy to make something up for, not like Adara had any real family anyway. By the time ten minutes was up, she had rushed her last four paragraphs but, despite this, she knew that it was practically impossible for her to fail anything in languages.

The bell rang at the teacher looked up. "Hand me your sheets on the way out," she ordered, "in a single file line! And no pushing. Make sure your name is written on the top."

Even though she sat at the very back of the classroom, Adara was the first to hand in her test paper and leave. It took her only a minute to charge through the crowd to get to her locker, which was basically on the other side of the school, to grab her coat.

That's when she heard heavy breathing beside her.

"What is it, Peter?" She asked.

He blinked, she only called him 'Peter' when she was annoyed at him or just in a bad mood in general. Most of the time it was 'Pete' or, if she was teasing him, 'Parker.'

"I was just wondering if you wanted to do something after school today," he asked, "like go grab lunch or something."

For the first time, she relaxed slightly, "are you asking me out on a date, Parker?"

He glared, "we literally do this every week, plus Ned will be coming too. Don't make this weird, Dara."

She laughed a little before flashing her usual, stunning smile at him. "Sorry, Pete, I can't. I need to go straight home."

The two began to walk out of school together.

"Is this about whatever's had you in such a weird mood all day?" He dared to ask.

"I have not been in a weird mood."

"Okay, why do you have to go home some quickly then?"

"None of your business, Peter," she told him, hurrying ahead, "you go grab lunch with Ned. I'll see you tomorrow unless I die overnight. Bye!"

He stopped, letting her race ahead. "Yeah," he sighed, "bye."

The moment Adara got into Happy's car, the man answered the question she had had on her lips all day before it even left her mouth.

"No, we don't know anything yet. No, they're not back yet. No, none of them are dead. And, no, they don't have the sceptre."

She slumped back on the seat, "this has been killing me all day! What time did they leave?"

"Around half one."

"Half one!" She exclaimed, "I thought they said they were going to leave earlier this morning."

"Well, they didn't," replied the man, pulling away from the school, "Maria Hill will know more about the whole situation when you get back. You can ask her."

And she did that, the moment she reached the top floors, she sprinted into the main room.

"Maria!" She yelled at the woman who was sitting on a sofa only a few feet away.

She looked at the teenager with an unamused look on her face, "what do you want, teen?"

Adara threw he bag to the floor and jumped onto the sofa neighbouring the one Maria was sitting on, "how's the mission going?"

"They made it into Sokovia and found the base but managed to alert the perimeter guards," the woman's face turned grim, "it's a code green."

"Code green?" Adara frowned, "so, Banner is…?"

"That's all I've got so far," Maria sighed, "we're just gonna have to see what happens. What do you remember of the base in Sokovia?"

She narrowed her eyes, remembering. "It wasn't as well guarded as the bank in DC, it also wasn't as well isolated as the one in Siberia either. Strucker and List were based there most of the time, doing their weird experiments. That's the place where they re-injected me with the chameleon particle to enhance my powers before moving me back to Siberia."

"What about the sceptre?" She asked, "anything you know about that?"

"Nothing. They never mentioned it. At least, not directly. Now that I'm thinking about it, I do remember Luka talking about Strucker experimenting with something new."

"The man did lots of experiments with that thing," Maria sighed, "I don't think we know the full extent of it all. You know Strucker well then?"

Adara shrugged, "not really. I only really remember him and Dr List observing me on the few days after they re-injected me. Though, I would be very pleased to see both men get what they deserve."

"Which is?"

"Prison or death," came her morbid reply, "either one is fine by me."

Maria just raised an eyebrow, "I guess, we'll just see how this mission goes first..."

...

SOKOVIA

"Baron Strucker," said Steve, "Hydra's number one thug."

"Technically I'm a thug for SHIELD," he pointed out.

"Well then technically you're unemployed," Steve joked lightly before turning serious, "Where's Loki's sceptre?"

The man, apparently intimidated, gave the super-soldier a slight smirk, "don't worry, I know when I'm beaten. You'll mention how I cooperated, I hope."

"Yeah," said he nodded, tone bitter, "I'll put it right under illegal human experimentation."

"You mean your little teenager," asked Strucker, looking smug at the venomous glare on Steve's face, "yes, we know that you have her in your tower. You let her attend school, do homework, hang out with friends," there was a sneer on his face, "you waste her powers. She could do so much more."

The blonde Avenger shook his head, "she's a human, not a piece of meat. She deserves a normal life."

"No," Strucker shook his head, "Hydra will take her back."

"Yeah? With what's left of your organisation," he snorted in contempt, "how many others have you experimented on?"

Suddenly, he noticed a presence beside him and turned around at the last minute to see a girl hit him with a red blast of energy, sending him tumbling down the stairs. Without giving himself a second to recover, he jumped back to his feet and ran up the stairs towards her but, as quick as she came, the girl vanished behind a pair of heavy, metal doors, slamming them shut.

He slowed down a little. "We have a second enhanced," he informed the others, "female. Do not engage." He turned to fix Strucker with a look.

"You'll have to be faster than-" but was cut off as Steve slammed his foot down on his shield, sending it flying upwards towards the Baron's face. In a split second, he was thrown against the wall and knocked out cold.

He turned away from him, "guys, I got Strucker," and he addressed the last part mainly towards Natasha, "and I think Hydra might know a little bit more about Adara than we'd like."

...

"Adara," whispered a voice, causing her to stir, "are you awake?"

"I wasn't," muttered the teenager, "I was actually asleep."

Natasha stood up straight, looking down on the sleepy Adara who was sprawled across a couch, "I told you not to stay up waiting for us. Have you taken your sleeping pills?"

"Don't need to," she shrugged, "I haven't had a nightmare in like two weeks."

"And when was the last time you took the pills?"

"Um…" she thought about it for a second, "last Thursday, I think."

"And you've been sleeping fine without them?"

"Yes, Natasha, I have," Adara sighed as though the redhead was the most annoying person in the world, "now, are you done interviewing me or can I go back to sleep?"

She raised an eyebrow and sat on the sofa beside Adara's head, "Maria told me that you spent all afternoon pestering her about the mission and now when we finally get back, you're tired."

"Yeah, well, pestering Maria is a weary task. Did you get the sceptre?"

"We did."

"Bon, c'est un problème de moins," (good, that's one less problem) she nodded, "and the lullaby, did it work?"

"Like a dream," Natasha nodded, "or, at least better than last time. What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Adara rolled her eyes, "oh… ce n'est rien," (it's nothing) she shrugged, "now if you don't mind, I'm gonna go back to sleep."

"Not on the sofa," she said sternly, "you can sleep in your own bed."

"But it's too much effort to move," Adara grinned, "either I stay here, or…"

"No, you're a teenager," Natasha firmly shook her head, "I'm not gonna let Steve carry you to your room for the third time this month because you can't be bothered. Now, go to sleep in your own bedroom or I'll drag you there by your ear."

"I love these conversations of ours," she heaved herself upwards, "what time is it?"

"Around eleven at night, maybe just after."

"And where are the others?" Adara asked, "scattered around the globe as per usual."

"Actually, for once I think they'll be sticking around. At least until the party on Sunday. Even Thor and Helen are staying, I think. Helen's working on Barton, he took a hit."

"Is he hurt badly?"

"Nothing Dr Cho can't fix," Natasha assured her, "anyway, you've still got a week left. So go to bed now, or you'll regret it at school tomorrow."

"Alright, alright," Adara rolled her eyes, "you sound like you could be my mother with all your pestering."

"Bed."

"Okay, going."

...

"Dr Cho," greeted Adara as she sat down at the table the next morning, "I haven't seen you since I first came to the tower and you healed me."

"There's no need to be so formal," the woman smiled over her mug of coffee, "just Helen is fine. It seems you're a full-time resident of this place now."

Adara shrugged, "guess I am. Morning, Steve," she added the last part as the blonde super-soldier sat down behind her, "you look tired."

He hummed, agreeing with her observation. "They put up more than a fight than I thought they would at the Sokovia base. I never thought we'd have to call out a code green either. How's Clint?"

"He's fine," answered the doctor, "I should probably go check on him now, considering I've finished breakfast." And she quickly got up an hurried towards the lab.

"What happened to him?" Adara enquired, still not fully knowledgeable about last night's events.

"There were a couple of enhanced on the fields," answered Steve, "two twins, heard of them?"

"Twins…" she pursed her lips, "I remember some Hydra soldiers mentioning something about 'Maximoff' twins but that is about it."

"You're not wrong," nodded Steve, "a couple of Strucker's experiments. Wanda and Pietro, they were orphaned at ten when a shell was dropped on their apartment," he took a sip of his coffee, "Sokovia has never been the best country."

"So I've heard," she nodded, "what are their abilities?"

"He can run really fast," he explained, "and she's just weird, she's got a vast array of powers. Not someone I'd like to go up against in a fight. Best guess is that their powers came from the sceptre. They volunteered to be experimented on, or so I'm told."

Adara, always the one to lighten the mood, pulled a disgusted face. "Who would ever want to willingly have to look at Strucker's ugly mug. Not to mention work for Hydra as a whole," she sighed, swilling her cornflakes around with her spoon, "at least I never volunteered, not like I had the choice. Anyway, what happened to Strucker? Still breathing?"

"NATO got him," he told her, "you won't be seeing him around for a long time. Dr List is dead too."

"Good," she pursed her lips, "now all we've got left is Rumlow and Luka," she said the latter's name as though it were poison on her tongue, "and hopefully he'll be gone sooner rather than later."

"We couldn't find anything on either of them back in Sokovia," Steve told her lightly, "Rumlow, I think, has gone rogue and is doing his own thing in an attempt to get back at me. As for Luka, he's still posing as a high-ranking military general."

"And no one expects a thing," she muttered grumpily, spoon in her mouth before her eyes widened, "shit!"

"Steve doesn't like to hear those kinds of words," said Natasha jokingly as she walked through the kitchen.

Adara looked a little bewildered as Steve groaned, "I guess that's still sticking around. What's wrong?"

"I forgot to do my English homework," she frowned, "and it's due in first period."

Steve looked at her sternly as Natasha sat across from them at the table. "You should've done it yesterday."

"I'm sure it's fine," argued the redhead, "it's only English. Just write a really quick, crappy essay about a book or whatever it is on the way to school."

This didn't seem to solve the problem. "All my English work is crappy, even when I do try."

"Well, it's not like we're expecting you to do swimmingly in English," Steve assured her, "it's not your first language."

"Russian's my first language," Natasha said, biting into an apple, "and I'm better at English than you are."

"Wow, comforting," remarked the teenager, "I should probably get going anyway. Happy's too busy to drive me to school today so I'm left with the other driver and she's a massive chienne."

"Don't curse!" Said Natasha, laughing to herself, "no matter what language."

Steve glared.

Adara glanced at the two as she stood up, "right. I'll see you when I get back from school."

"Don't do anything stupid," said Natasha.

"And don't get another detention," added Steve, "or get into another fight."

"I'll do my best," she grabbed her bag, "Bye!"

"Bye," the two chorused creepily at the same time and the teenager rushed away.

...

"Yeah, and Hulk was there and everything!" Exclaimed Ned, "I bet it was totally awesome. I would give anything just to spend a day with the Avengers."

Peter, who had spent the entirety of the morning googling information on the most recent sighting in Sokovia of the world famous superhero time, nodded in agreement. "I bet they throw great parties. Better than the one Flash throws."

"What is Flash throwing?" Asked Adara who had suddenly appeared behind him.

Peter jumped, "where did you come from?"

"Fourth-period History," she said flatly before repeating her question, "what is Flash throwing?"

"Oh," Ned shrugged as she took a seat beside Peter, "we were just talking about how the Avengers probably throw better parties than Flash does."

She snorted contemptuously, "I would hope that Avengers, who have Tony Stark on their team, would be able to throw better parties than some fourteen-year-old kid in his last year of middle-school," she glanced between the two, "why are we talking about this anyway?"

"Didn't you hear the news?" Asked Ned, exasperated, "about the Avengers in Sokovia."

She shook her head though Peter could tell that she found something funny.

"No," she shrugged, "I was too busy this morning to watch the news. Why were they in Sokovia of all places?"

"Uh- to kickass," stated Ned as though it were nothing more than that.

"I don't think the media knows," Peter answered the question properly, "I guess we'll find out in a bit."

"Unless the world ends," added Adara.

"Always looking on the positive side," remarked Ned, "anyway, coming back to Flash. He is actually throwing a party."

"I know," said Adara who was no eating an apple.

The two looked at her. "How?" Asked Peter, "you didn't even know the Avengers were in Sokovia."

"He invited me to the party," she said through a mouthful of the red fruit, "I said no, obviously. Then told him to clear off before I throw a chair at him. He doesn't give up though, does he? The loser could hardly stick to the deal we made in the fight for more than a week."

"He invited you?" Peter was slowly comprehending this.

There was a snort from down the table, the two boys looked over to see Michelle reading a book whilst simultaneously shaking her head in mock disappointment.

"He would obviously invite Adara," she told them.

"Why?" Asked Ned.

Michelle was dumbfounded, "I thought you two were smart! Isn't it obvious? Flash Thompson has been crushing on Adara and her sexy French accent since she first got here. Hell, I think her putting him into a headlock during that fight probably got him hard."

Peter wrinkled his nose, "that gross." But Adara just laughed and took another bite of her apple. He looked at her, "did you know about this? His crush on you?"

"There's no need to angsty about it, Parker," she said, "not even Ned cares," he looked over to see his friend give him a casual shrug. "And, to answer your question, I know he has a crush on me. I mean, who wouldn't? Everyone's crushing on me," she smiled, teasing in her tone, "Michelle, are you crushing on me?"

"Yes, Adara," the girl said without looking up from her book, "I love you."

"Point proven," she shook her head when she saw the look on Peter's face, "try not to get too worked up about it. Flash is an idiot. It's not like I'm actually ever gonna go to one of his weird parties. I think I more likely to become a vigilante, masked killer than a girl who drinks beer from red, plastic cups and makes out with Flash Thompson."

"I'm not worked up about it," Peter denied hotly, "I just don't like Flash is all. You should hear the stuff he says in the locker room sometimes, it's creepy."

Ned nodded in agreement.

"I'd rather not know," Adara smirked, "but, Flash Thompson with always be Flash Thompson. If you want me to, Pete, I can just beat him up again."

"No more fights," he practically begged, "you've already had three since you started here, not including the one with Flash."

She smiled her usual, bright and beautiful smile. The one that made Peter feel weird.

"And I've only got caught once," she said.

"You got off easy for that," added Ned, "I bet it's because the principal just thought you were just some weak, innocent, little girl."

"Oh, but, Ned," she stood back up, jokingly patting him on the head, "I am just some weak, innocent, little girl. I need to go to the library. See you later!"

Peter watched her walk away and sigh. Adara was equally one of the strangest, funniest and frustrating people he'd ever met, and that was saying something considering the type of school he went to. But, he was suspicious too. There had always been something not quite right about Adara, something that he could never figure out.


	12. Chapter 12

May 2nd, 2015  
The Night of the Party

“So,” began Adara, “what is it with you and Bruce?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” came Natasha’s simple answer before she tugged on her hair, “stop fidgeting otherwise we’ll be here forever.”

“I’m not fidgeting,” snorted Adara, “if you wanted my hair to be in a fancy get up then all you had to was ask. Shapeshifter, remember?”

“It’s not the same unless it’s done by hand,” the redhead answered simply, “God, you have a lot of hair.”

“You’re avoiding my first question,” she said, “what’s up with you and Bruce?”

 

“There’s nothing ‘up’ with Bruce and I,” she told the teenager firmly, “and, there’s no need to be so nosy.”

 

“I’m not being nosy.”

“Yes, you are.”

Adara frowned and folded her arms as the assassin continued to work away at her hair. “I figured out the lullaby for the hulk,” Natasha said, “Bruce and I spent some time together and I worked out the trigger to calm him down, that’s it.”

 

“It’s almost like you two have a special connection- ow!” She felt her pull on the back of hair, “sainte baise!” She cursed, “what the hell was that for?”

“Whoops,” the redhead responded drily, “did I pull your hair?”

 

“You’re such a connard,” Adara hissed, “are you done yet?”

“Oui, I am,” she nodded and looked at Adara, her mouth curved into a mocking smirk, “sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to.”

 

Adara just glared back, “sure you didn’t. Can we go now?”

“Yeah, sure.”

 

Tony had certainly gone out of his way to invite everyone. The room was filled to the brim of adult chatter and clinking wine glasses. Despite the amounts of important people, including the world saving Avengers themselves, the air still had an atmosphere of comfortable ease. People were laughing and joking with one another, there was no denying it was a celebration. Adara, however, felt a little out of place. She was the only kid in the room and was doing her best to avoid getting asked too many questions by prying adults. Right now her backstory was that she was a distant relative of Tony, who had decided to invite her to the party.

“And how did you say you two were related?” Asked one man, brow raised.

“Oh,” said the billionaire, throwing an arm around Adara who didn’t look pleased at all with it, “very distantly related. Probably like third cousin, twice removed or something like that. Either way, she’s a great kid, better than most teeangers I know.”

 

“How many teenagers do you know?” She asked cheekily.

“Not many,” he grinned back, “so I don’t have anyone to really compare you to.”

“I can assure that I am ten times better than all teenagers that you will ever know.”

 

“Yeah, that’s not big headed at all.”

The man who they had been talking to wandered off and Adara took the free moment to let out an over dramatic sigh and heavy roll of her eyes, “this party is so dumb. Everyone just keeps pestering me. If you ask me, I’d rather have done my maths homework at three o’clock in the morning than this.”

“No need to be so moody, my third cousin twice removed,” Tony grinned, “it’s a party, liven up.”

 

“Yeah, a party with a bunch of oldies,” she punched him in the shoulder, “not my kind of thing.”

“Are you calling me old?” He looked offended, “besides, I throw the best parties. It’s not every day you can party with the Avengers.”

 

“You’re right,” she smirked, “but I have to say that I’ve had enough of these ‘Avengers,’ I swear I see them basically everyday. Flash Thompson, from what I heard, was supposed to be throwing a killer party tonight,” she added the last part in a voice that was dripping with sarcasm.

“Who’s Flash?” Asked Tony, “why is his name so stupid?”

“That’s his nickname,” she told him, “his real name is Eugene, which is worse, I think. Anyway, he’s been crushing on me since day one, but don’t tell Steve I told you that. He’s annoying but no one deserves to have an angry super-soldier beat their face in.”

“I’m sure Grandpa Frisbee over there would love to meet your boyfriend and would definitely not beat him to a pulp. Though, it depends on the kind of guy.”

 

Adara pulled a face, “the day that Flash is my boyfriend is the day I decide that Hydra are actually a group of alright people.”

 

“I thought you were going out with nerdy clique with, I can’t remember their names, Pablo and Nick.”

“Peter and Ned,” she corrected, “and, ugh, I wouldn’t even dream about going out with either of them. From what I’ve heard from Michelle, they’ve got their eyes set on this girl called Liz who’s a sophomore now.”

“Wow, they must be into older women.”

“I guess they are,” she looked around, “where’s Steve?”

“Getting bored of my company already?” Tony pretended to be hurt, “you’re killin me, smalls. And, to answer your question, he’s chatting with his wingman over there. Get it, wingman? Because he’s-”

“Yeah, I get it, Tony,” she rolled her eyes, “or should I starting calling you my third cousin twice removed?”

 

He laughed, “If you want to.”

 

She found Sam and Steve in a slightly higher up area of the room, talking away about something. She slid in between the two of them and greeted them with a quick ‘hi.’

“Enjoying the party?” Asked the blonde super-soldier.

“I’m enjoying it as much as a fourteen-year-old can enjoy a party with a bunch of old men,” she glanced at him, “or, in your case, really old men.”

Sam laughed, Steve rolled his eyes.

“I feel like I should be taking offence to that,” he said.

Adara shrugged, “take it however you want. At least I know I’m having a better night than Doctor Banner down there.” The three watched Bruce awkwardly walking around, a now empty glass of what used to be whisky in his hands.

“I’m surprised Nat hasn’t pounced on him yet,” remarked Sam.

“She’s waiting for the right moment, I reckon,” she peered at them, “she flirts differently with him. Nat basically flirts with everyone, but she does it weird with him, like she’s actually into it.”

“I think it’s nice,” declared Steve, “Bruce definitely needs it. Plus, it’s good to see Natasha open up to another person.”

“‘Another person?’” Adara frowned, “who was the first person?”

The two men looked between each other. “Uh, are you blind, Adara? Because I think it’s kind of obvious,” said Sam, shaking his head.

“It is?”

“You, obviously,” but sighed when he realised the teenager still didn’t get it, “look, I worked with Romanoff during the whole SHIELD and Hydra business and she was the definition of uncaring bitch. Sorry for my language, Captain.”

Steve just rolled his eyes.

“What Sam is trying to say is,” the blonde continued for his friend, “is that Natasha really cares about you. You’re about the only person who she’s ever properly opened up to about her past, other than Clint. But even with him, she’s only ever her usual, dry, witty self. I think she perceives you a little differently than just a friend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Adara said, shaking her head, “I like Natasha. But she’s still Natasha to me.”

 

Sam and Steve just looked at one another.

 

A couple hours later, the party began to empty out. Even Sam had gone home. Adara was lounging on the couch, taking swigs out of a bottle as discreetly as she could without Steve noticing. Truthfully, the taste of alcohol wasn’t unfamiliar. During her days on the street and in the foster home, it had a power that seemed to prevent her from having headaches.

“But it’s a trick,” said Clint from his position on the floor beside Maria, the two had their backs resting on the bottom of the couch that Adara was lying on. At the end of the couch sat Bruce, who was in a deep chat with Natasha.

“Oh, no,” dismissed Thor, handing Steve a flask of some kind of Asgardian ale that no normal man could drink, “It’s much more than that.”

“Uh, ‘Whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power!’” and Adara laughed at Clint’s tone, the man sounded ever-so-slightly tipsy, “Whatever man! It's a trick!”

Thor just gestured to the hammer, “well, please, be my guest.”

 

“Come on,” said Tony, trying to convince the archer to do it.

Clint got to his feet, “really?”

 

“Yeah,” Thor nodded.

Rhodey shook his head, “Oh, this is going to be beautiful.”

Beside him, Tony teased, “Clint, you've had a tough week, we won't hold it against you if you can't get it up,” and the others laughed.

“You know I’ve seen this before,” Clint said, “right?” He attempted to lift the hammer the hammer with all his might but failed miserable and shook his head at Thor, “I still don’t get how you do it.”

“Smell the silent judgment?” Quipped Tony.

“Please, Stark, by all means.”

Tony stood up, straightening his back as he made his way over to the hammer, as Maria and Rhodey shook their heads. “Never one to shrink back from an honest challenge,” he told Clint as he walked by.

“Get after it,” said Clint, sitting back down.

“Here we go,” sighed Adara, knowing this wasn’t going to end well.

“It’s physics,” Tony sounded so sure of himself as he gripped the handle but didn’t pull straight away, “right, so, if I lift it, then I rule Asgard?”

“Yes,” nodded Thor, looking thoroughly amused, “of course.”

Adara’s eyebrows creased, “I hope that isn’t how your monarchy system works.”

 

“Well, I will be reinstating prima nocta,” Tony declared. Just as Clint did before, he attempted to lift the hammer, but failed just as badly as the archer had before. He muttered a quick ‘I’ll be right back’ and returned to the room, wearing the Iron Man hand in an attempt to gain more strength. That didn’t work either, so Rhodey got involved.

“Are you even pulling?” Asked colonel as the two, with their armoured hands, attempted to lift the hammer.

“Are you on my team?”

“Just represent! Pull!”

“Alright let’s go.”

Of course, neither of them could lift it, even with their combined strength. Next it was Bruce who had no such luck either, as his hands let go of the hammer he let out a very pathetic sounding roar, which only amused Adara. It seemed to amuse Natasha too, as she smiled fondly at the doctor.

Steve was next.

“Let's go, Steve, no pressure.” Tony raised his drink in the super-soldier’s direction.

“Come on, Cap,” Rhodey encouraged alongside his friend.

He gripped in and began to pull. She could’ve sworn she’d heard a creaking sound as he attempted to lift it, and the sudden facial expression shift to a frown that Thor went through all but confirmed it. However, he was still unable to lift it. 

Steve took a step back, lifting his hands up in defeat, and Thor shook his head and laughed. “Nothing.”

 

“And?” Tony said.

“Widow?” Bruce turned to Natasha.

She shook her head, taking another swig of her drink, “oh, no no. that’s not a question I need answered.”

“Adara?” Tony asked.

The teenager snorted, “I think I’m with Romanoff on this one.” She swallowed what was left in the bottle and reached over Clint’s head to put it on the table.

Steve eyed it, “are you drinking?”

“It was just water,” she lied with a completely straight face.

Natasha smirked.

“All deference to the man who wouldn't be king, but it's rigged,” said Tony.

Clint patted him on the back, “you bet your ass.”

 

“Steve, he said a bad language word,” Maria said, “Adara, cover your ears.” And the teenager just laughed.

“Did you tell everyone about that?” He asked Tony who ignored him. 

“The handle's imprinted, right?” The billionaire asked Thor, “like a security code. "Whosoever is carrying Thor's fingerprints" is, I think, the literal translation?” 

Thor, as cocky as ever, stood up and walked over to where his hammer was, “yes, well that's, uh, that's a very, very interesting theory. I have a simpler one,” he picked up the hammer, flipping it, “you’re all not worthy.”

Everyone groaned at him, refusing to accept the magical hammer theory. Their laughter was then quickly cut off by a high-pitched screeching noise. Adara flinched as the sound hit her ears, a bad feeling settling in her stomach.

“Worthy,” said a distorted voice, twisted tones bouncing off the walls. 

She turned around to see a strange, mangled, Iron Legion robot emerge into the room. It was an unfinished model, the insides still showing as well as having a missing arm. Yet it’s eyes, mouth and chest still let off a cold, blue glow. Adara eyed it with caution, it didn’t look like just some malfunctioning piece of tech, Stark’s mind was too good for that. The vibe she got off of it was that it had intent, if a robot could have that at all. It felt like it had a mind and she didn’t like that.

“No,” it approached them, “how could you be worthy? You’re all killers.”

 

Adara, definitely unsettled, grabbed an empty beer bottle from off the side, holding it as he only weapon against the thing.

“Stark,” Steve glared at the robot and then at Adara and then back at the robot.

“JARVIS,” Tony called for his usual, trusty, A.I system.

No response.

“I’m sorry, I was asleep,” the thing seemed to shake its head, “or- I was a dream.” 

There was something about it’s voice, the expression of it sounded just as human as anyone Adara knew.

Tony was tapping away at his device, “Reboot, Legionnaire OS, we got a buggy suit.”

 

“There was a terrible noise…” it went on, pausing to take a look at itself, as though it was a baby, learning the world around it, “and I was tangled in... in...strings.”

Natasha stood in front of Adara, almost as though to shield her.

“I had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy.”

Steve glanced up, “you killed someone?”

 

“Wouldn't have been my first call,” thought it didn’t sound too worried about it, “But, down in the real world we're faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” Asked Thor.

It wasted no time giving him a reply but, this time, it wasn’t the almost-human voice it had spoke in before. “I see a suit of armour around the world,” came the voice of Tony Stark from the robot.

Banner seemed to realise something, “Ultron.”

“In the flesh,” it used the human expression before realising it was incorrect, “Not this...chrysalis. But I'm ready. I'm on a mission.”

Natasha glanced back at Adara before looking at the robot, “what mission?”

“Peace in our time.”

The other Iron Legion robot suddenly crashed through the wall and flew into the room. Natasha shoved Adara back behind a sofa as one came crashing into the coffee table which Steve flipped over in an attempt to deflect the attack. It failed and he was sent flying. The glass shattered all over the floor, right where Adara’s hands were.

Adara scrambled to her feet and ran towards the stairs, only managing to get halfway up as a bot came flying past her. It crashed down into the rail guard, causing the metal pole to clatter down to the ground. It turned back around, aiming straight at her. She jumped off of the staircase, avoiding the dangerous, blue blast and dropped onto the floor in what was a painful impact, making a dive for the broken rail guard. As it came surging towards her again, she grabbed the pole, shoving it through the heart of the legionnaire, impaling it.

“We’re here to help-” but the voice sizzled out and faded as it broke down.

“Yeah,” she muttered, “as they say in france, ‘mourir, fils de pute.’”

She pulled the pole back out, grunting with the effort, keeping hold of it as a surprisingly effective weapon.

“Adara!” Yelled Natasha, shooting at one of them that was firing. She was covering Bruce who, thankfully, didn’t look to be turning green anytime soon.

“Coming!” She yelled back, running after the two of them as they headed up a different set of stairs.

The bot’s fire turned to Clint who quickly slid out of sight but, unfortunately, Natasha’s gun seemed to be largely ineffective.

Adara threw her the pole, “try this!”

The red head grabbed it and threw Adara the gun in exchange who caught and started shooting. The bot turned to her, raising it’s propulser blast when Natasha leapt from the staircase, wedging the pole straight into it and hanging on, pulling it down to the ground as she went. The legionnaire was destroyed and, quickly, Adara jogged down the stairs, closely followed by Bruce, to Natasha.

“Holy shit,” the teenager said, “that was cool.”

“Are you okay, Nat?” Asked Bruce.

Natasha ignored him, “Adara, your hands are bleeding.”

 

She glanced down, noticing that they were now drenched in red. “Steve flipped over a glass coffee table, they’re obviously bleeding.”

Before the redhead could say anything else, a shield went flying across the room and hit the last surviving legionnaire, effectively ending the fight in one instant.

“That was dramatic,” said the thing, before gesturing generically, its arm still missing, “I’m sorry, I know you mean well. You just didn’t think it through. You want to protect the world, but you don't want it to change. How is humanity saved if it's not allowed to...evolve?”

Adara watched as it picked up one of the dismembered Iron Legions by the head, looking at it as it spoke.

“ With these? These puppets?” It ripped its face off, looking at the exposed wires underneath before chucking it to the ground, “there’s only one path to peace,” it looked at each one of them, “the Avengers Extinction.”

Thor, obviously having enough of the thing’s chatter, suddenly hurled his hammer at it, destroying it in one moment. As the last of the light died from it eyes, it still had time to mutter one final, chilling phrase.

“I had strings, but now I'm free.”

But Adara had a feeling that wasn’t the last they had seen of Ultron.

 

“Are you focusing?” Asked Natasha.

“I would be if you stopped asking questions,” hissed Adara as she tugged out another piece of glass from her palm, “it’ll take a couple of hours until I’ll be able to fully heal it.”

They had moved to the lab to continue their discussion about Ultron, mainly in an attempt to examine the damage done elsewhere in the building. Adara was currently using her powers to focus on healing the cuts on her palm, but first was working on pulling out the glass shards that had managed to get themselves wedged in. She was sitting on the floor, Natasha standing beside her, as the group discussed the issue of Ultron.

“All our work is gone,” Bruce said, “Ultron cleared out, used the internet as an escape hatch.”

“Ultron,” repeated Steve, as though he could hardly believe it.

“He’s been in everything,” Natasha looked up from Adara, “Files, surveillance. Probably knows more about us than we know about each other.”

“He's in your files,” Rhodey continued for her, worry in his tone, “he's in the internet. What if he decides to access something a little more exciting?”

“Nuclear codes,” said Maria.

“Nuclear codes. Look, we need to make some calls, assuming we still can.” The War Machine was holding his shoulder where his injury had been.

“Nukes?” Natasha shook her head, “He said he wanted us dead.”

“He said extinct,” reminded Adara, “extinct as in dinosaurs.”

“He also said he killed somebody,” Clint added.

“But there wasn’t anyone else in the building,” Maria frowned.

Tony walked into the centre of the room, “yes, there was.” He used his gadget to project a strange, orange hologram of a sphere of some sorts. But it was broken, glitching in and out of existence like the features of a screen after you shatter your phone. Adara looked at it, awash with sudden recognition.

“JARVIS,” she muttered, “that’s JARVIS.”

 

Just an A.I system, but the whole group couldn’t help but feel emotionally moved.

“This is insane,” muttered Banner.

Steve, arms folded and looking quite forlorn, spoke, “JARVIS was the first line of defense. He would've shut Ultron down, it makes sense.”kk

Bruce inspected it, undisguised shock on his face. “No, Ultron could've assimilated Jarvis. This isn't strategy, this is...rage.”

“Rage?” Steve said, “it’s a robot.”

 

“It was human,” Adara looked at them, “I mean, I know it isn’t. But it just felt like it was.” The entire group was looking at her, “Ultron, I mean. The way it moved and talked. Its gestures and the way it expressed its voice,” she shuddered, “its more human than some humans I know.”

Suddenly, Thor burst into the room, cutting off any response that anyone had to Adara’s words. The God of Thunder strode in, not hesitating as he suddenly grabbed Tony by the neck, lifting his up in the air.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Clint exclaimed, “it's going around.”

“Come on,” said Stark, choked by Thor’s strong hand, “use your words, buddy.”

“I have more than enough words to describe you, Stark,” the long-haired blonde spat.

“Thor!” Said Steve, “the Legionnaire!”

He dropped Tony back to the ground, but didn’t take his eyes off him. “Trail went cold about a hundred miles out but it's headed north, and it has the scepter. Now we have to retrieve it, again.” He added that last bit, shooting a deadly glare at the billionaire who was still trying to regain himself.

“The genie's out of that bottle. Clear and present is Ultron.” Natasha remarked.

Helen Cho, who had been silent up until this moment, suddenly spoke up. “I don't understand,” she said, looking at the destroyed body of the legionnaire that Ultron had inhabited, “you built this program. Why is it trying to kill us?”

 

Much to Adara’s surprise, Tony began to laugh. Laugh like it was a funny joke. She narrowed her cold, green eyes at him, a sense of anger bubbling within her. She had easily suffered the worst injury of only a few bleeding cuts on her palm, but what if someone had died? Tony had no way of predicting this or the consequences his action may have, yet he had done it all the same. He, and Bruce too for that matter, were responsible in this situation.

As his friend continued to laugh, Bruce repeatedly shook his head in a weak attempt to silence him. It didn’t work.

“You think this is funny?” Demanded Thor.

He twisted around, “No,” he said, “It’s probably not, right? Is this very terrible? Is it so...is it so… it is. It's so terrible.”

“This could've been avoided if you hadn't played with something you don't understand,” Thor said, the anger laced in his deep tone getting increasingly louder and more obvious.

Tony stepped towards him, seemingly unthreatened, “No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It is funny. It's a hoot that you don't get why we need this.”

“Tony, maybe this might not be the time to-” Bruce began but was cut off.

“Really?! That's it? You just roll over, show your belly, every time somebody snarls?”

“Only when I've created a murder bot.”

“We didn't. We weren't even close. Were we close to an interface?”

“You obviously did something right,” said Steve, stepping towards the Stark, “and you did it right here. The Avengers were supposed to be different than SHIELD. They tried to stop a war before it even began. To kill innocent people. You can’t do that.”

Adara found herself nodding in agreement with the blonde super-soldier.

“Anybody remember when I carried a nuke through a wormhole?” Asked Tony and everyone simultaneously rolled their eyes.

“No, it's never come up,” said Rhodey, agitation in his voice.

“Saved New York?” He went on.

 

“Never heard that.”

“Recall that? A hostile alien army came charging through a hole in space. We're standing three hundred feet below it. We're the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all the livelong day, but, that up there? That's...that's the end game. How were you guys planning on beating that?”

“Together,” said Steve firmly, his glare unrelenting as his stared straight into Tony’s eyes.

“We’ll lose,” he said.

“Then we’ll do that together too.” Stark turned away from him as he continued. “Thor's right. Ultron's calling us out. And I'd like to find him before he's ready for us. The world's a big place. Let's start making it smaller.”

 

“Hey, you’ve reached the phone of me, Peter,” came his voice message, “please leave a message after the beep-”

Beep...

“Hey, Pete. I- uh-” Adara shook her head. It was the next morning, she had spent the rest of the night attempting to heal her injured hands and, once she’d done so, had been so tired that she had drifted off. “Crap, I just realised it’s a Monday morning, so you probably won’t get this until after school.”

She shoved her hands in her pockets, she was slightly drowsy from only just waking up and had decided to call Peter to explain why she was going to be away for a few days.

“I wanted to call both you and Ned but Ned always ignores my texts so I figured I’d call you instead. Except, right now, your in first-period maths, so…” she trailed off, realising she was rambling, “right, sorry, I’m just gonna be a bit busy over the next couple of days with-” she looked for an excuse, “uh- family stuff. I can’t really specify. Anyway, I’ll be back, hopefully before the end of the week. I was just calling to let you know that I’m not dead, at least, not yet. So, sorry, I’m not gonna be able to fight Flash for you for a while or beat up and burglars who want to steal your Tv.” She laughed to herself.

“Adara,” said Clint, appearing suddenly, “Steve reckons we got something, you coming?”

She moved it away from her for a second to talk to him, “yeah, yeah- just let me finish this,” she pressed the phone back to her ear, “I gotta go. Call me or text me when you get this message so I know you’ve seen it. Actually, just call me because I’m horrible with text messages anyway.”

She turned off the phone, “what’s going on?”

“Steve wants to see us,” the archer hurriedly explained, “who was that?”

“A friend,” she answered simply, “okay, I’m coming.”

“What’s this?” Tony asked once they were all in the room.

“A message,” explained Steve, who was showing them an image of a now dead Strucker, splayed against his prison bed with the word ‘PEACE’ written in the man’s blood. “Ultron killed Strucker.”

 

“Bon débarras,” spat Adara, “that man deserved death.”

“And he did a Banksy at the crime scene, just for us,” remarked Tony.

“This is a smokescreen,” Natasha said, “why send a message when you've just given a speech?”

“Strucker must have known something,” said Adara, “something that Ultron wanted us to miss.”

“Yeah,” the redhead turned to the computer screen, “I bet he-” she paused, shaking her head, “yep. Everything we had on Strucker has been erased.”

Tony looked up, “Not everything.”

Before long, each one of the Avengers were shuffling through the physical files they had on Strucker and Adara, being a teenager with the attention span of one as well, was slowly growing more and more bored with the dull activity and had been sitting, cross-legged on the table, rereading the same file over and over for the past five minutes.

“Known associates,” Steve read aloud, “wow, Strucker had a lot of friends.”

“That’s Hydra for you,” muttered Adara.

“Full of horrible people,” agreed Bruce.

“Wait,” Tony said suddenly, stopping Doctor Banner on the page he was on, “I know that guy. From back in the day. He operates off the African coast, black market arms.” Steve shot him an accusatory look, “There are conventions, alright?” He justified himself, “You meet people, I didn't sell him anything. He was talking about finding something new, a game changer, it was all very ‘Ahab.’”

Adara peered at the image. It was of a man named ‘Ulysses Klaue;’ a white man wearing sunglasses with a face that looked like he didn’t want to be messed with. But, his face wasn’t what peaked her interest.

It seemed that Thor felt the same way, point to the tattoo on the back of the arm’s dealer neck, “this.”

“It’s Wakandan, I think,” said Adara, “I’m no expert on the dialect, believe me, but, correct me if I’m wrong, I think that means thief.”

“It does,” Bruce confirmed from his computer, “however, it’s a much less friendly word for a thief.”

Tony suddenly looked worried, “did you say Wakanda, Adara?”

She nodded, “yeah.”

Steve and Tony exchanged a glance. “ If this guy got out of Wakanda with some of their trade goods…” began the billionaire, trailing off.

The super-soldier looked concerned, “I thought your father said he got the last of it?”

“I don’t follow,” said Bruce, “what comes out of Wakanda.”

Slowly, but surely, everyone’s eyes switched to the shield lying casually against the wall. The shield that belonged to Steve.

Tony muttered, “the strongest metal on Earth.”

Concerned, Steve looked up, “where is this guy now?”

And Adara realised that now would be a good time to prepare for her first ever mission.


	13. Chapter 13

 

“Adara-” began Steve, but he was cut off.

“No,” she said, “I am going. This thing, robot, Ultron or whatever its name is needs to be sorted out. I want to help.”

 

The team were preparing to leave and, Adara, in the catsuit she had borrowed off of Natasha a month ago, had appeared inside the Quinjet, ready to fight. Whilst the rest of the Avengers were off doing jobs, Steve was attempting to talk the spunky teenager out of her ‘crazy’ idea.

“You’re a kid,” he stated plainly, as if she didn’t know that.

She gave a dismissive scoff, “yeah, a kid who can shapeshift and ram a metal pole through the heart of an Iron Legionnaire that’s being controlled by a crazy A.I system. Not to mention, I was trained in combat since I was six by Hydra. I can handle it.”

“No, no way, Adara,” he said, “you’re staying here, in the tower.”

 

“Uh, I think that’s an even worse idea,” she shook her head, “Metal Man is obviously gonna assume that that’s what you’re going to do, so he’ll send some of his robot buddies there to sort me out and, ta-da, I’ll be dead!”

Natasha, who had just arrived on the Quinjet, sniggered a little, causing Steve to send her a stern glare before turning back to Adara.

“You’re not coming.”

 

“Yes, I am,” she said, “look, I’ll even put on a disguise or something.”

“I’m not sure about this.”

“He’s got a point, Adara,” said Natasha, “you are only fifteen.”

“Nonsense!” Declared Thor, who had suddenly appeared on the jet, “young Adara here is as much as a capable fighter than you or Barton, I think she is a valuable asset to the team.”

“Thor, she’s fifteen.”

“My father taught me to fight from a young age,” said Thor, “Loki, too, was also a great trickster by that age, he managed to stab me when we were only eight.”

“He stabbed you?” Natasha blinked.

“That’s not the point,” said Steve, “Adara is far too young-”

 

“Let’s go!” Said Tony, suddenly making a grand appearance, “oh, hey, Adara, are you coming?”

 

“Yes, I am,” she nodded, smiling innocently as she said it.

“Aren’t you a little on the young side?” The billionaire frowned, “what do you think, Steve?”

“He thinks it’s fine,” she answered for him, flashing the blonde man a grin, “and Natasha does too. Plus, Thor says that I’m ‘a valuable asset to the team.’” she finished her sentence with a firm nod, as if daring anyone to argue further.

After a couple moments of silence, there was a collective sigh and, before long, they were on their way to Africa with a teenager in tow.

“So,” said Natasha halfway through the flight, “you said something about a disguise?”

“Yeah,” Adara looked thoughtful before brightening up a little, “like those superhero alter-egos.”

 

“You need to come up with something,” said Natasha, “let’s see what you’re going for.”

 

The teenager seemed to think for a second, before reaching a conclusion. Her body quickly shifted from the skinny, fourteen-year-old with long, dark hair to a much taller figure, though she still made sure she looked young. The usual pale, but slightly tanned, skin turned to a rich, golden colour with a beautifully smooth texture. Her lips shifted to a bright red but easily the most notable change was the hair. No longer was it reaching past her shoulders, now it hardly made it past the ears. It was short, a little wavy and a stunningly, bright, blue, electric colour that really made her unchangeable, cold green eyes pop. the features of her face had also shifted slightly, freckles were now included, and Adara smirked.

“How’s this for a double-identity?” She asked.

“What’s with the hair?” Natasha asked, tone unimpressed.

Adara glared, “what’s with your hair? Let me have blue and you can continued to be the redhead of the group.”

Finally, the former-assassin let out a cocky smirk, now looking completely satisfied with the teenager’s new look, “well, it’s pretty neat, I guess. What’s your codename?”

She shrugged, “I’m still working on that part.”

 

“So, Sorry, I’m not gonna be able to fight Flash for you for a while or beat up any burglars who want to steal your TV,” she laughed to herself and Peter smiled.

He had come back from school, having spent the day listening to Peter brag about his stupid party. He had been surprised to see that Adara wasn’t in, and even more surprised to come home and find she had left a vague voicemail with vague answers to why she wouldn’t be in ‘for a while.’ 

He heard a voice from the distance and Adara yell something to whoever it was.

“I gotta go,” she said, “call me or text me when you get this message so I know you’ve seen it. Actually, just call me because I’m horrible with text messages anyway.” And the sound was cut off as the voicemail ended.

Peter, doing as the girl had asked, immediately began to ring her back but found himself waiting for a long time until he heard his voice come from the receiver.

“Hey, it’s Adara-” she said and Peter was confused by the fact she was introducing herself.

“Uh, I know, I was just-” but he was cut off by a loud, bark of laughter.

“Just kidding! You’ve gone to voicemail,” said Adara and Peter smiled a little, “sucks to be you! I’ll probably just ignore it, unless your Steve because your voicemails are better than a stern lecture in real life. Anyway leave a message after the beep or whatever.”

The teenage boy wasn’t given a chance to think over who ‘Steve’ was when the beeping sound came and he was left with silence, given the option to speak.

“Hey, Dara,” he began awkwardly, “I- uh- just wanted to say I got your message. Because, you told me to call you when I got it so…” he cleared his throat, “you sounded a little weird and, I don’t mean to pry but, is everything alright? I know you can handle yourself, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He sighed, “uh, also, there was Spanish homework but I don’t think you’d really care. See ya, I guess.”

 

He put down the phone, still feeling slightly unsettled. Something about the world just felt wrong today. And he just could not put his finger on it.

 

“Don’t compare me with Stark,” said the thing called Ultron as Adara, along with Natasha and Clint, snuck up on the robot and his twin companions, who were all currently facing down with Ulysses Klaue, “It’s a thing with me. Stark is a sickness!”

 

That seemed to be other three members cue, as Thor and Captain America approached them, Tony Stark in his full suit landing down on the ground.

“Oh, Junior,” he said, “you’re going to break your old man’s heart.”

 

Ultron seemed to size him up, “if I have to.”

 

Thor, as placating as ever, said, “we don’t have to break anything.”

 

“Clearly you’ve never made an omelette,” said Ultron, in a manner that sounded too eerily Stark-like for a A.I, killer robot.

Stark, always amused, turned to Thor, “he beat me by one second!”

“Ah, this is funny, Mr. Stark,” said the fast twin, with strikingly silver hair, “It's what, comfortable? Like old times?” 

Adara’s heart sank for them, obviously the two had gone through something terrible and were unable to resist the temptation to get revenge on the one they presumed to have ruined their lives. She was fully aware of what Stark industries used to be but, then again, she had killed people before, not only the men in the alley. At least Tony had only ever done it indirectly, if that was enough to justify it.

“This was never my life,” said the billionaire.

Steve moved towards them, “you two can still walk away from this.”

“Oh, we will,” said the girl, in a manner that was clearly condescending. Adara found that she didn’t like people talking down to Steve like that.

“I know you've suffered.”

“Uuughh!” Exclaimed the thing, “Captain America. God's righteous man, pretending you could live without a war. I can't physically throw up in my mouth, but-”

Thor cut in, “if you believe in peace then let us keep it.”

“I think your confusing peace with quiet,” it argued back.

“Yeah, uh-huh,” Tony said offhandedly, “what’s the vibranium for?”

Ultron, clearly not fooled, seemed to turn smug and cocky for a split second, “I'm glad you asked that, because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan!”

 

There was a sudden burst of noise and chaos as the Iron Legions moved to attack the rest of the Avengers whilst Tony fought against the main Ultron bot himself. Adara heard shouting as Klaue’s mercenaries moved towards them.

“Natasha!” She said.

“I’ve seen them,” replied the redhead, running towards them, “be careful.”

 

Adara, who was not being careful, collided with one of the men coming down. He was holding a heavy looking AK-47 which he seemed to firing erratically. He was far too close to get a direct hit at her so, using the knives she was well trained in, she stabbed the guy in the gut, causing him to cry out in pain. Already, two other man was firing straight at her. She turned away from her current target and sent one knife flying straight towards the first stomach before running towards the second one, ducking under the gunfire, and sliding across the ground so she hit his legs, sending him to the floor. 

Knocked down, she climbed on top of him, knife aimed over heart before changing her mind, and just stabbing him in the shoulder instead.

“Yeah,” she muttered to herself, as she pulled the weapon back out and the man let out a screech of pain, “I should probably stop with the murder.”

Just then, someone else started firing. Not messing around, Adara pulled out her gun and shot each person firing at her in the leg, causing them to collapse. One of them was still firing, despite having a bullet in his kneecap. She, without mercy, shot both of his hands and glared coldly down at him.

“I’ll stop with the murder,” she muttered, “maybe not with the bodily harm,” she pressed a hand to her ear piece, “guys? I think I’ve cleared out the rest in this area.” No reply, “hey, guys?”

Suddenly, a red mist overtook her. She fell to the ground, stunned momentarily as she suddenly thumped to the floor. The damn witch! Didn’t Maria say she had some kind of freaky powers?

Standing up, she forced herself over to where she had last seen Natasha but, when she walked through the doorway, she was no longer on the ship.

Instead, she was surrounded by moving bodies of teenagers her age partying with red, plastic cups in their hands, filled with punch that was probably spike. Her outfit that had once been a completely black, old, Black Widow suit and turned into a short, red, skater skirt matched with an off-the-shoulder, black, crop top. An outfit she would never usually wear. Confused and bewildered, Adara made her way through the crowd, the faces of the people blending together into an unrecognisable blur as their dancing bodies pressed towards her, moving to the sound of blaringly, loud pop sounds that stung her ears and almost seemed to suffocate her with noise. This wasn’t her life. Sure, she was a teenager, but she would never want to live a life like this. She couldn’t understand how so many people did it.

“Adara,” said a voice the moment she pushed through the crowd, “I’m so glad you made it.”

She glanced up before realising she should actually be looking down, “Flash? What are you doing here?”

He scoffed, “it’s my party, so it’s in my house.”

She gazed around, “this is your party?”

“What do you think?”

Adara sent a piercing green glare in his direction but, much to her frustration and surprise, the boy did not flinch away from her like he usually did. He instead just smiled a very cocky smile. “You just haven’t seen the main event yet,” he said, “now, this, will really liven up the party. Or is ‘liven’ the right word to use here?”

“What are you talking about?” She spat at him, french accent distinct.

“Just follow me,” he said, still smirking.

Hesitantly, she did just that, paying little mind to what she was doing at the party in the first place. Flash’s strange behaviour had gotten her curious to what was really going on as something about this whole place but her on edge. From the fact that she could hardly distinguish one face from another to the awfully loud music that was basically just a constant beating that unrelentingly pounded in her ears.

Flash led her outside to a large garden, complete with a pool that was lit up using underwater lights, making it glow in the darkness of night. That, however, was not what caught her interest.

“Oh mon Dieu,” she muttered when she saw the body floating in the water, “Ned?”

“That’s right!” Grinned Flash, patting her on the back like she was his best friend, “you’re too late to save him. However, you can still save the other nerdy loser.”

 

She attempted to jump into the pool to grab the boy, but there was almost an invisible wall blocking her from doing so.

Ned looked like he had been bound and gagged and thrown into the pool like it was funny. He was still fully clothed but very, very dead. She couldn’t even see his face as it was pressed down into the water, like the boy had not tried to stop himself from drowning. Still, it did not kill the party atmosphere. People were still jumping of diving boards and swimming naked in the pool, almost like there wasn’t a corpse there at all. Shocked that the party had taken such a dark turn, she could hardly utter a word at the sigh of her dead friend.

“Bring out the penis!” Called Flash, a line which confused Adara greatly until she saw Peter being dragged out of the house by a couple of Flash’s goons, wrists bound and mouth gagged, though his warm, brown eyes were exposed and were alight with fear and confusion.

“Penis Parker! Penis Parker!” The party goers began to chant with an eerie amount of anticipation that put the only normal teenager on edge.

“What’s going on, Flash?” She snapped at him, “is this some kind of cruel joke to you?” She began to walk over to where Peter was when Flash stopped her.

“Not so fast,” he said, “my friends there are going to shove your pretty boy’s face under the water and hold him there until he stops moving.”

 

She blinked, “what? Are you fucking crazy?” she turned to all of them and yelled, “are you all fucking crazy?”

“Of course you can always stop us,” said Flash, his voice morphing and changing to one that didn’t even sound human, “if you do one thing for us.”

She tried to tug herself from his grip but, somehow, it was like steel and she was completely immobile.

“What is it then?” She hissed impatiently, growing more desperate as she saw Peter’s eyes widen as he spotted the floating, dead Ned in the pool. She was doing her best to appear tough, but her emotions were so overwhelming and the situation was too confusing for her to really handle the weight of it all.

Flash’s cocky grin morphed into a haunting sneer, “stop lying to yourself.”

“Huh?”

“Stop thinking that you can live some kind of normal life with Steve and Natasha.”

“How do you-”

“Stop believing that you have a shot at redemption.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“Because we all know the truth.”

“Don’t you dare fucking say it.”

 

“You’re the reason your parents are dead,” Flash said, tone completely devoid of any care, “if you had never been born, they’d still be alive. Not to mention the fact that you were the stupid child who couldn’t keep quiet for more than five minutes and gave your hiding place away.”

She began to move away, “shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

“You sat by and did nothing to stop their deaths. Nothing to stop Hydra and nothing to stop Luka.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she practically growled like an animal.

The boy wasn’t fazed, “so stop lying to yourself.”

 

She glared dangerously at him, “I’m not lying.”

 

He then grinned, “fine then.”

There was a muffled scream from behind her and Adara twisted out of Flash’s grip to see Peter suddenly being plunged underneath the water, held down by the hands of party goers. She raced towards him but her path was blocked by other guests, all with the exact same, sinister smile on their face. 

“Get out of my way!” She screamed but none of them moved.

There was only one way to get to Peter.

She jumped into the pool, fully clothed, and felt the icy cold water overtake her sense immediately. Not letting herself get distracted or get weighed down by her waterlogged clothes, she swam towards Peter whose struggles were getting increasingly slower. His eyes widened as he saw her and, desperate, she began to attempt to pry away the hands of the party goers that were holding him down. They didn’t seemed to give up, what felt like a hundred hands were pushing the poor boy down into the water and Adara was the only one who could stand against them.

He became unconscious and, growing increasingly more and more emotional, she practically screamed in frustration underwater, that just came out as a few bubbles rising to the surface. Now she could was losing breath, she wasn’t planning on giving up. 

Peter stilled completely and she burst up to the surface, carrying him and pulling him up onto land. Ignoring everyone around her, she tilted his head to the side, allowing water to drain from his mouth and nose, and felt his wrist for a pulse. Nothing. She knew what to do.

Still soaking from pool water and tears, she began the reviving technique.

“One, two, three, four…” she counted as she vehemently began the chest compressions, not stopping until she reached thirty. She then tilted his head back and pinched his nostrils shut, performing the first rescue breath and then the second before going back to chest compressions. As time went on, the music grew louder and louder and her actions sloppier and more desperate with no progress being made.

“Peter, Goddammit,” she cursed, surprised to see that her chest was heaving with sobs.

‘He’s dead,’ said a voice in her head which she ignored.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Peter didn’t even look like Peter anymore. His body was changing, changing into a much older man. He was no longer a drowned teenager, but her own father, a corpse riddled with oozing bullet holes. She pulled her hands away, stained red from the blood, but did not stop crying. The music was no longer the infectiously loud sound of the bass but, instead, were the sound of many guns firing at once.

She began to full on weep, crying over the body of her dead father without restraint.

She felt someone behind her.

“Go away, Flash,” she muttered, voice hoarse.

“Guess again,” said someone else with a distinctly New Yorkian accent, “what did I tell you about crying, Adara?”

The gunfire stopped. The party scene vanished. And Adara was left in some sort of black abyss.

Her breaths were short but she did the best she could to regain herself. “What wrong with me?” Her voice carried no accent at all, her body drained from the effort of crying.

“What’s wrong?” Repeated Luka before chuckling to himself and shaking his head, “no, Adara, what’s right with you?”

She didn’t reply.

“Look at you, your a mess,” he stated it like it was the best thing ever, “surely you must realise it now.”

 

“Realise what?”

“That your nothing.”

She felt his hand touch her shoulder and she violently flinched away, but he forced her to turn around and look at him. He was crouched beside her, the cold but smug look always on his face.

“This life as a normal teenager,” he said, shaking his head, “it’s pathetic. You cried over the death of teenage boy. Some irrelevant boy. Surely, by now, you must realise how ridiculous this life is for you? You could be so much more.”

“I’m not killing for you anymore,” she muttered weakly, “I’m stopping Ultron.”

“And your doing a magnificent job of that,” Luka shook his head, “what a mess you’ve made, Adara Thomas. You latch onto people so easily because you need them, others scare you because you don’t understand them. Your like a parasite or a leech. The only reason the Avengers keep you around is because they pity you.”

“No,” she said firmly.

“Natasha doesn’t even care about you,” he went on, “why do you care about her?”

“I don’t,” she affirmed, “I don’t care about anyone.”

He laughed, “you lie, Adara Thomas. You do care. You care about the boy. About the redhead. About the supersoldier. About all of them. Do you know how moronic you are. Hydra will find you, and they won’t hesitate to murder anyone who stands in your way.”

“Get away from me,” she hissed but could not escape his grip.

“You’re terrified of the truth,” he said, “you’re terrified of who you are, Adara. I trained you to kill, to become the perfect Hydra agent but you ran from us because you were too scared.”

 

“I’m not scared,” she argued stubbornly, teeth gritted.

“Prove it,” he snapped back at her, “shoot the woman.”

Suddenly, there was a woman tied to a chair, bag over her face so she was unrecognisable. Scarily, the woman seemed completely still, she did not seem to afraid at all. Adara, still dripping wet from pool water, stood up, Luka standing up beside her too. 

“Who is she?” She asked.

“Why do you care?” He said, “you used to be able to kill on my command, now you won’t because you’re scared.”

 

“I’m not proud of what I did,” she said firmly.

“Then maybe I’ll convince you,” he said, “shoot this woman, and you get to wake up.”

 

“I’m asleep.”

 

“Shoot her and wake up.” He had a handgun in his hand and wanted to give it to her, “that’s all it takes. It’s all it takes to stop the nightmare.”

“No-”

“Take the damn gun, Adara,” he shouted and, with a mind tortured into following every order, especially when he said it like that, she obeyed, taking the gun.

She aimed it squarely at where the woman’s face was behind the bag. Obviously, the woman couldn’t tell that she had a gun pointed at her face, she couldn’t see a thing.

Closing one eye, Adara aimed and-

Bang!

She shot the gun.

The bag came flying off and the face underneath was revealed. The body slumped to the floor and the teenager finally got a look at who the woman really was.

“Natasha,” she said, “Natasha?”

“She can’t hear you,” said Luka, “you killed her.”

 

The redhead now seemed to have a bullet wedged in her brain, dark, vivid blood dripping all over the floor she was lying on. Adara walked over to her and collapsed by the corpse, feeling an unexplainable tightness of emotion in her chest.

“Natasha,” she said, more desperately this time, “I can’t-” she could hardly speak, “I don’t- I’m sorry.”

 

“Too late,” remarked Luka.

“What did I-” she swallowed, “why did-”

 

“Why?” Asked Luka, “why do you always kill the ones you love Adara? The last dream I was in, you ended up shooting your friend Peter Parker in the head. Now, you’re shooting your assassin mother. Yet, every time you seem surprised by your own actions. It should just be expected by now.”

“Ferme ta gueule!” She hissed at him, turning to look at the man she loathed with red, puffy eyes, “va te faire enculer! Je veux te tuer!”

“Then do it,” he said, “kill me.”

 

She stared.

“You can’t.”

 

“Liar!” she screamed, “liar! You’re the killer! You killed my parents, this is all your fault!”

“You killed her,” he gestured to the dead Natasha.

“No, no, no,” Adara snarled, “this was your fault. Your messing with my head. Someone is messing with my head! Everything wrong and it’s-” she struggled, “it’s- what’s the fucking English word for it?”

Luka seemed amused by her distress.

“Ce n'est pas ma faute!” She got it, “It’s not my fault!”

“Yes it is.”

 

“No, it’s not.”

“Don’t lie, Adara.”

“Shut up, Ferme ta gueule!”

“You’re a liar and a coward, Adara Thomas, you know for a fact that I’m not even here. I’m just your in mind. A projection of yourself with my face.”

 

“Fucking hell! Shut the fuck up!”

“You know I’m speaking the truth, you just can’t handle it.”

“Fuck off!” Adara woke up and hit her her head on the back of something and frantically looked around, bewildered and confused.

“Adara, Adara,” said Steve, grabbing her wrists to prevent her from moving around too much, just in case she ended up hurting herself, “look at me, look at me.”

She was on the Quinjet. It had just been that witch messing with her mind. Making her see things. She did as Steve said and focused on him. Whilst he was still in full uniform, the helmet was gone. The man looked dishevelled, as though he had just went though hell and back. His blonde hair was a mess, blue eyes severely unsettled and his strange state did little to make her feel better.

“A vision,” she said, “it was just a vision.”

He nodded slowly, “it wasn’t real, Adara.”

“Natasha,” she said suddenly, standing up before feeling a little light headed, Steve steadied her.

“I’m here,” said the redhead, not looking in a much better state than Steve, “Adara, you worried us. I knew this mission was a bad idea, I just-”

Adara suddenly cut her off by wrapping her in a tight hug and beginning to sob uncontrollably. There was such a surprising amount of desperation and sadness in her sobs that made Natasha feel surprisingly guilty, like she hadn’t been looking after Adara properly. Natasha was only surprised for a second at the action, before she hugged the teeanger back.

“I’m here, Adara,” she said, voice slightly muffled from the teenager’s hair, which had since turned back to the normal colour, “I’m here.”


	14. Chapter 14

It was dawn the next day when Adara was woken up by the sound of the Quinjet landing. She had had a restless sleep, unable to sleep after the vivid vision and the constant hum of the jet underneath her. She had slept on the small bench, Natasha on Steve on either side. It was obvious that no one in the jet had spoken a word to each other after she had fallen asleep and she could only guess that the witch had made them see visions too.

Then there was Clint, who had landed the Quinjet in the new area. It was peaceful, definitely more peaceful than the Big Apple, and very green too. And there, surrounded by the tall trees, sat a cute, decently sized farm in the centre of it all. Accompanied with a barn and several miles of empty space, it seemed like the perfect place for the Avengers to camp out.

“What is this place?” She asked Natasha, who she was currently leaning against, as they walked towards the house.

“A safehouse,” she told her, “or, more accurately, Clint’s safehouse.”

Adara looked at it, something about the place felt familiar. The isolated area, the greenery, the loveliness of the house. Then it struck her, this was what her old home used to look like. Not the tower, not the orphanage and definitely not the Hydra base. The home she had been born in. The lovely home in France that she had lived in with her once living parents. All of a sudden, she felt uncomfortable here.

As she walked into the house, the tension that had suddenly bubbled within her had increased as she walked into the cosy, homely atmosphere. This wasn’t just a safehouse, but a painful reminder of what she lost.

“Honey,” said Clint suddenly, knocking her out of her daze, “I’m home.”

 

A heavily pregnant lady suddenly appeared in the kitchen, looking almost overjoyed to see Clint. Adara blinked, was he married?

 

“Hey,” she greeted, giving Barton a kiss. Adara looked at Natasha who, unlike the rest of the team, didn’t look surprised at all. She knew about it the whole time.

“This is an agent of some kind,” muttered Tony to Thor.

Clint, ignoring him, turned to the group, “gentlemen and Adara, this is Laura.”

“I know all of your names,” she smiled at them but they stared awkwardly back. 

“Oh, incoming!” Exclaimed Clint suddenly as two kids ran into the kitchen and barreled into the archer, who wrapped the smallest girl into his arms and lifted her up, and then pulled the older boy into a hug.

“These are smaller agents,” Tony attempted to rationalise the situation but it was obvious to the most stupidest person that this was exactly what it looked like.

And it made Adara feel sick to her stomach.

“Did you bring auntie Nat?” Asked the smaller Barton, she could be no older than six.

“Why don’t you hug her and find out?” Natasha said the little girl raced up to her, hugging her tightly.

“Sorry for barging in on you,” said Steve, polite as ever. Though, she noticed vaguely, he was looking at her with concern as her distant, green eyes fixed on little Lila Barton like she had just seen a ghost.

“Yeah, we would have called ahead, but we were busy having no idea that you existed,” said Tony.

“Yeah, well Fury helped me set this up when I joined.” Clint explained, “he kept it off SHIELD's files, I'd like to keep it that way. I figure it's a good place to lay low.”

Thor accidentally trod on a piece of lego and looked at it as though it were the strangest thing in any realm. He quickly tucked the broken toy under the chair only to find Lila Barton looking up at him with wide eyes, filled with a stunned sort of admiration. Adara knew that the demi-God had been troubled by Wanda’s visions, but she was too occupied looking down at the little girl. Something was churning in her stomach. It wasn’t compassion or want for the child, it was jealousy. She was jealous of a six-year-old.

Suddenly, Thor turned away and left the room, drawing her attention away from the kid and at him. Steve followed him out but Adara didn’t follow, her mind preoccupied with something else.

 

Steve had found the teenager lying on the grassy area just in front of the house, picking at the green strands around her absent-mindedly as she stared up at the neverending blue sky. He looked at her for a moment, Adara had been out here for an hour after spending only ten minutes inside the Barton house. She hadn’t mentioned anything she had seen in her vision, but neither had the rest of the team. But, something else was on the teenager’s mind, Steve could tell.

And he was right. Adara had been thinking about Clint and his family for the past hour. She hadn’t bothered to tell anyone where she was, knowing that they were all too preoccupied in their own woes. She tried to focus on anything but her vision and Lila Barton, but her mind kept coming back to those two very same things. 

“The only reason the Avengers keep you around is because they pity you.”

She flinched and closed her eyes.

“Adara,” said Steve and she propped herself up with an elbow, noticing the super-soldier for the first time.

Sitting up fully and crossing her legs, she looked at him with mild curiosity, “hey, Steve.”

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Are you?” She asked back, her eyes making it obvious that she knew that neither of them were okay.

He sighed but managed a weak smile, “this whole place. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“The farm?” She turned to look at the building over her shoulder before shrugging, “yeah, I guess it is. Nice that Clint could set up his own life here.” Her tone was empty.

“And how do you really feel?” He asked her.

For a long time, the two looked at each other. Steve had never really taken the time to realise not only just how green Adara’s eyes were, but also how the range of emotions she could show. Somehow, the girl had the ability to look angry, sad, lost and regretful, all at the same time, whilst also simultaneously being completely stoic. And he could see the cogs twisting in her brain behind those eyes, as if making a choice.

“I hate it here,” she admitted, “I despise everything about this place.”

 

He frowned at her, “why?”

She began to pick at the grass, “because it’s everything that was taken away from me,” she said, “my home in France, a family that’s always going to be there and it’s so isolated from the rest of the world. Something my parents tried to do but failed,” he voice was stingingly bitter, “I bet that little Lila Barton will never have to watch her parents die.”

Steve looked at Adara who was not looking back at him and held some level of understanding about where she was. He was no Natasha, he couldn’t connect with the girl like she did. But, she needed someone other than the redhead to talk to her, to relate to her.

“This is the kind of life my family wanted,” she whispered, “tucked away in the middle of nowhere, isolated from Shield and Hydra. But they never got the chance, did they? And then I see Clint and his daughter, Lila, who is the same age as I was when I lost my parents and I just feel so…” she paused, “what’s the word in English? Jaloux?”

 

“Jealous,” He corrected.

She nodded, “that’s it. Jealous. I’m jealous of a six-year-old girl. God, I’m pathetic.”

 

“Stop that,” Steve said and she looked at him in surprise.

“What?” She blinked, “stop what?”

“Invalidating your feelings,” he said, “you’re not pathetic for feeling that way, Adara. I understand what you mean, you see a life you can’t have here.”

“More like a life I could’ve had,” she sighed and Steve noticed that she was on the verge of tears, “It’s so unfair. All of these kids in school get to grow up with people who love them and care for them and who are their blood. But I’m just here, knowing full well that every chance I had in life was taken away from me when I was six and I’m never gonna be able to burn the image of the dead bodies of my parents from my mind!” She spat out the last bit in a tone laced with a choking amount of bitterness. But Steve did not flinch, knowing she wasn’t done. “I can’t sleep and even when I take the damn pills the nightmares are always in the back of my mind. It’s inescapable and I just can’t stop it! And I thought that I was getting better but then I have this damn vision and I’m back to square one.”

He looked at her, blue eyes glittering with an emotion she couldn’t read.

“You were young, Adara,” he said, “you saw that but were taken to Hydra before you had any time to mourn or even to comprehend.”

“Peter lost both of his parents when he was much younger than I,” she said, “he never seems bothered by it.”

“Peter had is aunt and uncle,” Steve pointed out, “who did you have? No one. Your brain was still developing and you went through hell, I’m not surprised by the nightmares. But I know it’s not your fault.” The teen looked back at the grass as he spoke. “Listen, Adara, you have us. Me, Natasha and the rest of the team are always going to be there for you. You don’t have to keep all this anguish inside. It’s not healthy.”

 

“I know it’s not healthy,” she hissed, suddenly feeling frustrated, “but how do I open up when I feel like I kill everything around me. My dreams are filled with death. My dreams are filled with me killing people I thought I cared about-” she paused as her voice cracked, “but I can’t stop, Steve. And I don’t want to sleep either. Because, I know if I fall asleep then Luka wins.”

“Luka’s not here,” he assured her, “he’s never going to get you.”

“But he’s always in here,” she pointed to her head, “and I can’t get rid him,” much to her horror, she began crying, “I’m sorry- I didn’t-”

 

Steve hugged her and she didn’t hesitate when it came to hugging him back

 

The hours after she had spoke to Steve had been spent embarrassing in front of the man further with her none stop crying. He had been kind and she appreciated that. 

Now it was getting late and Adara, having just showered, was sitting on top of the downstairs couch. The house did not have enough room to accomodate all of them and, whilst Lila Barton had offered to share her room, Adara had been afraid of letting the little girl see he having a nightmare. Hell, she was scared of anyone seeing her having a nightmare. The only people who had ever witnessed it were Steve and Natasha, and they had been woken up in the middle of the night by her screaming and shouting in her sleep. She didn’t want to put the little girl through that.

Not to mention, every time she looked at the girl, she was reminded of her life from before. What she used to be like. But she was never going to say that to the little girl’s face. The couch was fine.

It wasn’t particularly late and everyone was still awake but most were milling around the house, Clint and Laura Barton were talking in the kitchen. She could just about hear them when she turned the music on her phone down.

“What about Nat and Banner?” Asked Laura, “how long has that been going on for?”

Clint sounded confused, “has what?”

Adara rolled her eyes. Even a blind person could see that something was going on between the doctor and Natasha. She had been flirting on and off for awhile, but it quickly had become more meaningful after she had discovered the lullaby. Adara had watched the two suddenly grow closer and closer with one another, Natasha doing little disguise her feelings whilst Bruce would just be flustered any time someone asked.

Everytime Adara brought it up, the redhead would ignore her or find a subtle way to change the topic. It was growing increasingly annoying seeing the two be so close, yet see no action being made to actually start something. Not that Adara was really bothered by them getting together or not. It wasn’t any of her business.

Laura and Clint’s continued conversation drew her out of her contemplation.

“And what about Adara?” Asked Laura, “she’s only a teenager and she’s part of all this mess.”

“She was never meant to be,” said Clint and Adara pretended to listen to music, acting as though she couldn’t hear their conversation about her, “she was never meant to be brought into this life.”

“I hope you all look after her,” she said, “from what you’ve told me, that girl has been through hell and back.”

 

“Natasha is actually close to her,” from what he said next, Adara could tell that Laura must have doubted his words. “No, I’m being serious. Natasha’s the only one she’s really opened up to fully. She’s got Steve too, who’s a little more responsible at taking her of her.”

“Poor kid,” muttered Laura, the pity felt demeaning to Adara, “she wasn’t in the best state when I first saw her.”

 

“I think Steve talked to her,” said Clint, “but, I don’t know, taking her on the mission probably wasn’t the best idea, if…”

 

Adara turned her music back up and tuned them out. Instead, she went into her texts and quickly typed out a message.

Adara: Can we call? I’m bored.

She put her phone back down but was surprised to hear the ‘ding’ of a reply only a minute later.

Peter: Yeah, sure. I’ll call you now.

And sure enough, he did. The moment she had finished reading the text, his name popped up on her screen accompanied by the loud ringing sound. She let it ring twice before picking up.

“Salut, Peter,” she greeted, rolling the ‘r’ in his name.

He instantly picked up on the fact that she was using his actual name and not his nickname. “You’ve been off for three days now, Adara,” he said, “Is everything alright?”

 

“I know I’ve been off,” she muttered, “It’s just I-” she sighed, “I’ve been busy with some stuff. Like, really busy. I’m fine.”

 

“What have you been busy with?”

The question was followed by silence and it became clear that she wasn’t going to answer.

“Well, you’re obviously not okay Adara. I can hear it in your voice.”

 

She frowned, “in my voice?”

“Your accent becomes clearer when you’re upset,” he told her, “you always sound really French whenever you talk to Flash.”

Adara flinched a little, remembering the Flash that had been in her dream. He had definitely been a lot more confident, but not it a good way. She preferred the Flash that would squirm whenever he saw her, she liked to think that she still had power over one part of her life, even if it was just a horny teenage boy. But, the Flash she had seen in her vision had lead her to the poolside where they had drowned Ned and were going to drown Peter with such coolness but coldness. She shut her eyes, trying to blot out any memories of the vision.

“Dara?” Her nickname brought her back to reality, “are you sure everything’s okay?”

Another pause.

“No,” she said finally, “it’s not. It’s really not okay.”

 

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything, Peter,” she said, “everything about me and my shitty life,” she tightened her grip on the phone, “it’s unfair, all of it.”

“What’s unfair?” He asked, feeling slightly confused.

“This. You. Me.” She said it as though it were a sufficient answer, “the situation we’re in.”

 

“What situation?”

 

Who had she been kidding? Peter had his aunt and uncle, she had no one. At least his memories of his parents were vague and blurry, hers were painfully vivid. Especially the memory of their death. Their bodies.

“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered, “this call was stupid. Sorry if I interrupted your homework or something.”

 

“No, wait, don’t hang up!” He said, “I was only doing physics homework. Dara, what’s going on? You sound like a mess.”

“Just what every girl wants to hear,” she lightly teased.

“No I- What? I just meant that you don’t sound like you normally do.”

“I’ve just had a couple of rough days, that’s all,” she shook herself a little, “you should probably get back to your physics homework. À bientôt!” she went to hang up but, once again, Peter wasn’t going to let her.

“This is about your parents, isn’t it?” He said suddenly and she stopped, surprised at how he guessed it.

“How..?”

“I just remembered the conversation we had at the sleepover, before that guy broke in,” Peter explained, “I told you about my parents and you told me about yours. The way you spoke about them, you’re using the same tone of voice now.”

“How can you tell?”

“As I said earlier, you sound more French.”

 

“Oh…” She trailed off, peering at the ceiling and frowning to herself, picking at a loose thread on the couch.

“Did you have another nightmare?”

“You say ‘another,’ but I get them on a pretty constant basis. But, this dream was a little rougher than the last and- I don’t know- I wanted to talk to someone about it. I mean, I have talked about it to other people but, well,” she let out another, heavy sigh, “God, this is stupid.”

 

“It’s not stupid, Dara.”

“It is though. I’m fourteen, why do I still get nightmares? Why do I let them control me? It’s pathetic.”

 

Peter scrunched up his nose at the way she spat out the last word, how was it possible for her to think that way? “Adara, you told me what happened to you and your parents. I’m not surprised you get nightmares.” But it was a pretty weak way of comforting someone. Peter rarely had nightmares but, when he did, they were never enjoyable experience. He couldn’t imagine the kind of nightmares Adara had.

“Do you…” She bit the inside of her mouth and started again, “that night. The sleepover, I mean. You told me that it was less painful to think about your parents’ death because you can hardly remember them. But, doesn’t it still hurt?”

“God, Dara,” he nodded before stupidly realising that they were on the phone and she couldn’t see him, “of course it still hurts. Seeing everyone else grow up with their parents, talking about their ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy.’ It always made me feel a little isolated, it still does sometimes. But what I went through was nothing like you,” he paused for a second but she remained silent. “Look, I get nightmares sometimes. We all do. But my nightmares are about snakes and coming to school naked. When I wake up and realise it was a dream, I don’t call myself ‘pathetic’ for having a nightmare. Mainly because I know it’s something I can’t control. And if me having a nightmare about falling backwards on a chair isn’t pathetic, then your nightmares definitely aren’t pathetic.”

 

“But I let it control me,” she pointed out lamely.

“I’m no expert, Adara, but your nightmares are something that, maybe, with more time and distance, will fade away overtime.”

“You sound very mature.”

 

“I can be when the situation calls for it.”

She sunk back into the couch a little, “you should probably get back to your science homework.”

“Yeah,” He hummed in agreement, “I’ll see you tomo-” but cut himself off.

She laughed her melodic laugh, “I’ll see you when I see you.”

He moved to hang up.

“Wait,” She said suddenly, “I just wanted to say…”

“What?”

“Thank you, Pete.”

He grinned, “no problem, Dara.”

 

“I didn’t realise you were waiting,” Natasha was brought out of her thoughts and looked up to see Bruce Banner half-dressed and leaving the bathroom.

“I would've joined you,” she stood up,”but uh, it didn't seem like the right time.”

“They used up all the hot water.”

She smiled a little and shrugged, “I should’ve joined you.”

 

“Missed our window. The world just saw the Hulk. The real Hulk, for the first time. You know I have to leave.”

She looked at him, furrowing her eyebrows, “leave? Bruce…”

“I can’t stay, Natasha.”

The redhead sat back on the bed, “I know. I figured. I was just hoping…” She looked at him, “maybe, in a different life, I might’ve been tempted to come with you.”

“Why?”

“I’m no Avenger,” she shook her head, “I’m not one of the ‘world’s mightiest heroes.’ I tricked myself into believing that I was more than just the assassin they made me into. Thought I would save people,” she frowned, “and then I woke up.”

He looked at her, “but you won’t leave.”

 

Natasha fixed her gaze on him, “I have responsibilities. I have a reason to stick around.”

He looked straight back at her, “it’s probably a better choice. There’s no future with me. I can't ever...I can't have this,” he gestured to the house as a whole, “kids, do the math, I physically can't.”

She just gave him a dry look, “Neither can I. In the Red Room, where I was trained, where I was raised, um, they have a graduation ceremony. They sterilize you. It's efficient. One less thing to worry about. The one thing that might matter more than a mission. It makes everything easier. Even killing.” She hesitated but spoke again after a moment of silence, “you still think you're the only monster on the team?”

“You’re not a monster, Tasha,” he said, “I think you’re being blind.”

 

“What do you mean?”

“You and I can’t physically have kids,” he scoffed, “but, you basically already have one.”

 

Natasha, a little confused, tilted her head to the side, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Adara, of course,” Bruce stated it as though it were obvious, “you’ve been looking after her since she first ever came to the tower. You and Steve are the only two she’ll ever fully talk to about herself. Not to mention, you two are practically attached to the hip most of the time. I think she sees you as a mother.”

“She has a mother.”

“Had a mother. One that died when she was six. Natasha, you’re the closest to a mother figure she’s ever gonna get. I can already see parts of your personality rubbing off onto her.”

 

Natasha didn’t say anything for a while, before decisively changing the topic. “So, you’re just going to disappear?”

“Who knows, depends on how this whole Ultron thing works out,” he shrugged, “I don’t really want to Hulk out again.”

She nodded, “I can understand that.” She glanced back at the doorway, “I’ll join you in a second, I just need to talk to Steve.”

Bruce nodded, concentrating on getting fully dressed as the redhead left the room and headed back downstairs to find the blonde super-soldier leaning against the doorframe of the living room, a calm smile on his face. She walked up to him to stand beside him and saw the sleeping Adara on the sofa. 

She still had music playing, Natasha could make out the muffled bass sound coming from her headphones. But, she was completely still. No shifting around, no mutterings in French, no pained screams and no sudden jolts awake. Calm. Relaxed. Serene. It was a cute moment in the chaos that was the Ultron situation.

“How long has she been asleep?” She asked.

Steve shrugged, “I came down five minutes ago to get a drink and she dead to the world. I think she was tired.”

 

Natasha looked at him, “no nightmares?”

 

“Nothing, she’s quiet.”

 

The redhead turned her gaze back to the sleeping teenager and replayed Bruce’s words in her head.

“I think she sees you as a mother,” Bruce had told her.

She cared. Cared a lot about Adara. She didn’t know what she’d do with herself if she ever lost the girl. Feeling the girl hug her so tightly when she had woken from her vision might not have been enough to get the message across to her, but Bruce’s words certainly had.

Adara might as well have been her kid.

And she’d be a liar if she said she hated that idea.


	15. Chapter 15

When Adara woke up a little while later, she was surprised to see that everyone had already gathered in the kitchen and we’re listening to a man talk. It took her a couple of seconds to recognise him as Nick Fury, but the eyepatch did really make him stick out. He was a big name in Hydra but never in a good way.

“Miss Thomas,” he said as she walked in, “good to finally meet you.”

She eyed him with caution, “You know who I am?”

“I knew your mother back when she worked for SHIELD,” he told her, “Adelaide Thomas. I was surprised when she told me that she was with your father and pregnant. After they left SHIELD, I didn’t hear from them. Never even knew they had died.”

 

“You didn’t even bother to check?” Adara asked, more bitterness in her voice than intended.

“They told me they had gone into hiding for a reason they didn’t want to specify,” Fury said, “should’ve known it was Hydra. They were good people.”

 

She just looked at him and sat at the table beside Natasha before replying. “I know,” her mind drifted back into the times before her parents death before she shook herself back to the current situation, “anyway, why are you even here?”

“I was getting to that,” he turned to the rest of the team, which had remained respectfully silent up until that point.

“What about him?” Tony snorted, “we’re aware of his existence.”

“His plan,” elaborated the director, “he took out you folks to buy himself some time. My contacts all say he's building something. The amount of Vibranium he made off with, I don't think it's just one thing.”

“What about Ultron himself?” Asked Steve.

“Ah. He's easy to track, he's everywhere. Guy's multiplying faster than a Catholic rabbit,” Adara snorted at the metaphor, “still doesn't help us get an angle on any of his plans though.”

 

“Is he still after launch codes?” She asked.

“Yes, he is, but he’s not making any headway.”

“I cracked the Pentagon's firewall in high school on a dare,” Tony reminded them and everyone rolled their eyes a little.

“Yeah, well, I contacted our friends at the NEXUS about that.” Fury went on.

Steve looked confused, “NEXUS?”

 

Adara had heard of it, but was not fully aware of what it was. Luckily, Banner explained it for them, “It's the world internet hub in Oslo, every byte of data flows through there, fastest access on earth.”

“So what did they say?” Asked Clint.

“He's fixated on the missiles, but the codes are constantly being changed,” Fury explained to them.

 

“By whom?” Asked Tony.

“Parties unknown.”

“Do we have an ally?” Asked Natasha.

The former director of SHIELD shook his head, “Ultron's got an enemy, that's not the same thing. Still, I'd pay folding money to know who it is.”

“I might need to visit Oslo,” said Tony, “to find our unknown.”

 

“Well, this is good times, boss, but I was kind of hoping when I saw you, you'd have more than that,” said Natasha with a sigh.

 

Fury leant against the kitchen counter, looking at all of them. “I do,” he told them, “I have you.” They all gave each other a confused look. “Back in the day, I had eyes everywhere, ears everywhere else. Here we all are, back on earth, with nothing but our wit, and our will to save the world,” he began to pace round the room as he explained, “Ultron says the Avengers are the only thing between him and his mission. And whether or not he admits it, his mission is global destruction. All this,” he gestured to the house, “laid in a grave. So stand. Outwit the platinum bastard.”

Natasha smirked a little, “Steve doesn’t like that kind of talk.”

 

Steve gave her a mock-annoyed look, “you know what, Romanoff?”

“So what does he want,” asked Fury, bringing the attention back to him.

“To become better. Better than us. He keeps building bodies.” Steve said.

“Person bodies. The human form is inefficient, biologically speaking, we're outmoded. But he keeps coming back to it.”

“When you two programmed him to protect the human race, you amazingly failed.”

“It goes beyond that,” said Adara, coming to a realisation, “back in the tower, Ultron said that humanity wouldn’t be able to change if it wasn’t allowed to evolve.”

Bruce began to nod, coming to the same conclusion as her, “she’s right. The human race doesn’t need to be protected, they need to evolve. That’s his plan. Ultron is going to evolve.”

 

“How?” Fury asked.

Banner looked at each and everyone one of them, “has anyone been in contact with Helen Cho?”

 

“You’re safer with us,” stated Steve, “but you’re not going to leave the jet this time, understand? Ultron is stronger than you. Than any of us.”

Adara, Steve, Clint and Natasha were all readying the Quinjet. Fury was heading back to the tower to get Maria Hill, dropping off Banner on the way. Tony was off to Oslo to find their unknown ally. And the rest of them were on a mission to find Helen Cho.

“Maybe we should’ve let Fury drop her off at the tower with Bruce,” said Natasha.

“I’m not sure how well protected the tower is,” said Steve and Adara wondered whether he was referencing the battle that had taken place after the party not too long ago.

“Then she can stay with us,” agreed Clint before grinning, “maybe she can even drive the Quinjet.”

 

Adara laughed but Steve frowned, “she is definitely not old enough to drive.”

They arrived in South Korea only an hour and a half later, the jet hovering over U-Gin Research lab. Cho’s workplace. The captain dropped down onto the roof and quickly muttered something over his comm to them. “Two minutes. Stay close.”

 

The jet quickly flew off, Natasha, Clint and Adara still inside. The teenager, who was nervously pacing, glanced over at the redhead who was as calm as ever. Natasha was the back up and had made it very clear that Adara was to not get involved.

Over the ear comm, Adara could just make out the strained voice of an injured Helen Cho.

“The real power is inside the Cradle,” her voice was hoarse and Adara wondered if she was going to make it, “The gem, its power is uncontainable. You can't just blow it up. You have to get the Cradle to Stark.”

“First I have to find it,” said Steve.

“Go,” the woman said weakly.

“Did you guys copy that?” Asked Steve.

“We did,” said Clint.

Natasha was looking at a monitor, “I got a private jet taking off, across town, no manifest. That could be him.”

Adara spotted a truck leaving the lab, “look! There!”

“It’s a truck from the lab,” Clint had spotted it too, “Cap. On the loop by the bridge. It's them.” He scanned the insides of it, “I got three with the Cradle, one in the cab. I could take out the driver.”

 

“Negative!” Said Cap firmly, “If that truck crashes, the gem could level the city. We need to draw out Ultron.”

 

Adara watched from the window as the super-soldier leapt off the bridge, landing on top of the truck with a thump. She could make the dot of him hanging from the side when the truck’s doors swung open, caused by one of Ultron’s red blasts. Steve, hanging onto the side of the door, was taken back by the force, bouncing of the side of the truck before swinging back. The robot sent out another blast, sending him flying. When he landed, it was on top of the now collapsed door that was trailing across the road whilst still being attached to the truck, sending sparks flying. 

“Well, he's definitely unhappy! I'm gonna try and keep him that way,” he said.

“You’re no match for him, Cap,” said Barton.

Adara nodded in agreement, “you don’t stand a chance.”

 

“Yeah, thanks you two,” Said Steve, attempting to climb into the inside of the truck.

Adara managed to tear her eyes away from the battle below to look at Natasha, who was preparing herself.

“You going in?”

“Yep,” the redhead nodded, “from the sounds of it, he needs me. Fly it low, Clint.”

 

The Quinjet went sailing through the air, through the buildings and over the busy city. Then, skillfully, Clint took a sharp turn so the jet was flying over the road the truck was on in the opposite direction of the traffic.

“We got a window,” said Barton to Natasha, “four… three…” he lowered the Quinjet and twisted round to look at her, “give ‘em hell.”

Natasha dropped from the Quinjet, dropping onto the streets below on her motorbike and sped through the traffic like it was nothing, her eyes on the road ahead of her. She spotted a shield on the floor and tilted the vehicle to the side to snatch it up.

“I’m always picking up after you boys,” she muttered over the comm.

“We’re heading over the underpass,” said Clint, “I’ve got no shot.”

 

“Which way?” Natasha asked.

“Take a hard right...” said Adara, waiting for the right moment, “now!”

 

Natasha took a sharp turn, heading through the busier streets as civilians leapt out of her way. She appeared under the underpass, speeding towards the truck. Now she was out of sight.

“I can’t see them,” she turned to Clint.

“There, under the bridge!” he said and she could just make out the shape of cars crashing into one another and Steve’s figure attempting to dodge them all.

“Clint, can you draw out the guards?” Asked Natasha.

“Let’s find out,” muttered the archer, swinging so he was lower down, below the level of the bridge.

“We’ve got a clean shot of Ultron!” Yelled Adara and Barton let out a sudden rip of orange gun fire at the main, Ultron bot who, for a split second, stopped fighting to Steve to fix the Quinjet with a glare. “I think we’ve pissed him off!”

 

“Yeah, no shit,” scoffed Clint, as he directed the jet back into the air, two Ultron bots on their tail. They attached themselves to the side of the plane, beginning to tear it apart.

“I think we have a problem,” she said.

“Adara,” said Clint suddenly, “sit your ass down and put on a seatbelt.”

 

Adara did so, looking at him, “what are you- gah!” Her sentence had been cut off by her own shriek of surprise as the Quinjet violently spun around in the air, the world turning into a blur of blue skies and grey interiors until Clint finally stopped and she could make out the shape of the Ultron Bots blasting away through the sky. 

She gripped onto the arm rests of the seat, gasping for breath, “a little bit more of a warning next time would’ve been nice.”

 

“Next time you’ll have your seatbelt on,” said Clint, continuing to push the jet upwards when he suddenly realised that the bots weren’t following them.

“They’re heading back towards you two,” Adara said.

“Whatever you’re going to do,” added Barton, “do it now.”

Then, Natasha came in over the comm, “I’m going in! Cap, can you keep them occupied?”

Steve came in from the other end of the line, sounding very out of breath, “what do you think I’ve been doing?”

The two bots had suddenly flown underneath the truck which was now barraling into a blockade of South Korean police officers. Instead of slowing the down, the truck swooped upwards, the two Ultron bots underneath were flying it. It flew away from the bridge and over the water, Clint driving the Quinjet not too far behind it.

“Package is airborne,” he stated, “we have a clean shot.”

 

Adara leant forward in anticipation.

“Negative,” came the voice of Natasha, “I am still in the truck.”

“You’re in the what now?” Adara shouted.

“What the hell are you doing-” but he was cut off by the redhead again.

“Just be ready,” she told them, “I’m sending the package to you.”

“How are we gonna take it?” Asked Clint.

Natasha sighed, “you might wish you hadn’t asked that.”

Adara quickly unbuckled herself, sliding out of her seat and to the back of the Quinjet, hitting the button to open the doors at the back as Clint lowered the jet into the perfect position.

“I lost him!” Said the Captain, “he’s heading your way.”

“You might want to hurry this up, Nat!” She shouted down the comm.

“Coming in,” she said and, as the remnants of the truck blew up behind her, the redhead was gripping onto the cradle, sending it flying downwards towards the Quinjet. Adara pressed herself against the wall as it flew inside, careful to make sure it didn’t ram into her. 

But, before Natasha could get in, Ultron suddenly appeared, grabbing the redhead by the ankle.

“Natasha!” Shrieked Adara, a surprising wave of fear striking her.

“What happened?” Demanded Clint, sounding worried, “where’s Nat.”

 

“Ultron-” she managed to stutter out, “he-” but was too consumed with shock to really say anything.

“Cap, you see Nat?” Asked Clint.

“If you have the package, get it to Stark! Go!” The super-soldier ordered.

“Do you have eyes on Nat?” He sounded tense.

Steve wasn’t having it, “go!”

Reluctantly, Clint pulled back up towards the sky and the doors closed, leaving Adara feeling some form of horror as the blue sky disappeared and the Quinjet had no Natasha in it.

 

When Natasha woke up, she didn’t know where she was. It took a couple of seconds for the pounding headache to stop and for her eyes to adjust to the area around her. When they did, she realised she was in some sort of factory, a place she didn’t recognise at all. There were people at work but, as she soon realised, they weren’t people at all.

Ultron was working on something. “I wasn’t sure you’d wake up,” said one of his many bodies, “I hoped you would, I wanted to show you.” Then, he looked down at the floor and muttered, “I don’t have anyone else.”

Natasha was suddenly reminded of something that Adara had said the night of the party, the aftermath of Ultron’s first attack. ‘It acts more human than most humans I know,’ the girl had said and, in this moment, Natasha realised how true her words had been. Ultron only had himself to talk to and, apparently, no twins as his allies. He was alone and seemed to realise it.

“I think a lot about meteors,” he went on, “the purity in them. Boom!” He looked up suddenly, “the end.” She attempted to prop herself up against a wall, never letting her eyes leave him. “Start again. The world made clean for the new man to rebuild. I was meant to be new. I was meant to be beautiful,” he approached her but, as he talked, seemed to be awestrucked by an idea that could never be, “The world would've looked to the sky and seen hope, seen mercy. Instead they'll look up in horror because of you.” 

He moved towards her and Natasha shuffled back, feeling intimidated by the thing, knowing full well that she didn’t stand a chance against it.

“You've wounded me. I give you full marks for that. But, like the man said, "What doesn't kill me…” suddenly, a bigger body of Ultron ripped the one that had been speaking and finished his sentence for it, “just makes me stronger.”

He closed the cell door, still looking her in the eye.

“You can’t save the shapeshifter,” he said, red, robotic eyes somehow gleaming in satisfaction at the terrified look on her face, “you can’t save any of them.”

But he was wrong because, and Natasha was sure of it, no one was going to ever hurt Adara. And definitely not this damn robot. She would make sure of it.

 

“Anything on Nat?” Asked Bruce as Tony approached the three of them. 

There were four in the building. Bruce, Tony, Clint and Adara. The teenager was sitting cross-legged on top of the cradle, despite being told multiple times to get down, and was impatiently twitching, putting everyone on edge. It had been nearly two hours since the incident in South Korea and Adara was yet to calm down.

“Haven't heard,” answered Tony.

“What if she’s dead?” Adara asked to none of them in particular.

“Do you have to be such a mood killer?” The billionaire looked at her, “I’ve told you to get off of that three times now. And Natasha isn’t dead, or Ultron would be rubbing it in our faces.”

 

Adara didn’t look convinced.

“Stop sitting on the cradle,” he said. She glared and he sighed in defeat and turned to Clint, “is there any chance she might’ve left a message outside the internet? Old-school spy stuff?”

“There’s some nets I can cast,” answered Clint, “Yeah, alright. I'll find her. Adara?”

 

“Coming,” she slid off of her seated position from on top of the cradle and followed him downstairs.

Below the lab seemed to be some kind of machine and a pair of headphones. Clint sat down in front of the contraption, placing the headphones over his ears and fiddling with the buttons. There were also several monitors showing sound waves and stuff, but she ignored it. Adara tilted her head to the side, inspecting the sheet at the side which held code translations of some kind.

“Morse code,” she stated, looking at Clint, “Hydra taught me.”

“Figured they would,” he passed the headphones to her, “how good are you?”

“Pretty good,” she sat down in the chair beside him and he passed her the headphones, “of course she would use this method.”

 

“We used to use it,” Clint smiled at a distant memory, “back in the days when we both worked for SHIELD. We would often get sent on missions together and, when one of us got captured, this is what we would use.”

 

“You would go on missions together a lot then?”

“We were a good team,” he nodded, “she knows a lot about me. I know a lot about her.”

 

“How long has she known about your family?” She asked.

“A while,” he nodded to himself, “I knew I could trust her. Even though she might’ve done some bad things in her past, she’s working past it and, though she’ll never admit it, she’s saved so many lives. She really has let go of her past with the KGB.”

Adara nodded in agreement, “yeah, she’s a good person.”

“And then there’s you,” Clint said, causing surprise.

“Me?”

“She cares about you. Hell, she’d probably give her own life for you.”

Adara frowned, “I don’t-” but was cut off. “Wait! I’m picking up something.” Clint started scanning the monitors as Adara listened in on whatever the message was. “A… L…” she began translating aloud, “I… V... E…” she smirked to herself before frowning at the next thing. “‘Ultron here.’ He must have her hostage, do you have her location?”

 

“One second,” he messed around with the computer for a few more seconds, “ah-hah! Hydra Base,” he looked at her, “Sokovia.”

Suddenly, chaos from above. Adara and Clin ran upstairs to see three newcomers in the building. Steve and the twins were glaring at Tony and Bruce, arguing with them about something.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” said Steve and Adara walked up so she was behind Bruce, confused at the scene.

“And you do?” Banner shot back, “she’s not in your head?” He glared at Wanda Maximoff.

“What’s going on?” She asked, “what are you doing with the cradle?”

“Ultron attempt two,” answered Pietro Maximoff, “Stark seems convinced that one murderous robot is not enough.”

“I don’t understand,” she glanced at Tony, “why would you try to make another one…?”

“Because it will work this time,” he sounded so confident, yet she wasn’t convinced, “but Steve and his new friends don’t seem to understand that.”

“They’re evil,” stated Banner and Adara eyed him cautiously.

“I know you’re angry,” said Wanda, attempting to be placating.

“Oh, we're way past that,” he said coldly, his tone unshifting, “I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade.”

“Banner, after everything that's happened-” Steve tried to say but was interrupted by Tony.

“That's nothing compared to what's coming!”

“You don't know what's in there!” Wanda said.

“This isn’t a game,” agreed Steve.

Suddenly, a white blur started to speed around the room at a rate that Adara couldn't follow with her much slower eyes. When Pietro blurred to a stop, the lab had been torn apart and the cradle disconnected. Adara felt a little bewildered.

“No. No,” he said snarkily, “go on. You were saying?”

Then, just after a cocky smirk, the floor beneath him shattered to pieces and he went flying down.

“Pietro!” Shouted Wanda.

Tony quickly turned back to his tech, “I’m rerouting the upload.”

Steve, not having it, sent his shield flying, bouncing of walls and the lab tech. Adara ducked, covering her head as sparks flew. Tony, his Iron Man hand now on, shot a blast of white at Steve, who was sent flying backwards. She stood up, regaining herself a little, having no idea what was going on and who to fight for.

“Guys!” She tried to say but Tony was fully suiting up and Wanda was attempting to use her powers when Bruce grabbed her.

“Go ahead,” he dared, “piss me off!”

 

As Tony and Steve battled it out, Adara rolled out of the way of their mindless fighting and grabbed the captain’s shield, using it to cover herself as glass was sent her way after Tony was sent flying through a window.

Wanda wormed her way out of Bruce’s grip and hit him with her strange, red magic, causing him to stumble backwards and double over, gripping his stomach.

Then, to add to the chaos, Thor suddenly slid into the room. This was the first time any of them had seen him since he left the farmhouse to find out more about the vision he had had and now it was even more confusing to see him suddenly appear.

He leapt on top of the cradle, thrusting his hammer into the air and drawing electricity for the overhead lights, causing a small storm, before blasting it straight at the cradle. 

“Wait!” Cried Bruce but it was too late.

As the lightning stopped, Thor stumbled back and there was nothing for half a second until the cradle burst open in a show of light and glass. Adara, thankful she had the shield, used it to hide herself from the oncoming shards of glass and, when she looked up, she saw something shocking.

The android had risen elegantly from the cradle, crouching at the edge. He was the colours of green and red and, in his forehead, there was a glowing, yellow gem. He stood up fully, looking around with his new eyes with a strangely humane look of confusion on his face.

Adara, surprised but in awe, let the shield clatter to the ground, watching the android with amazement.

Then, it’s confused gaze seemed to lock on Thor and it suddenly flew straight at him. Before he could do anything, the Asgardian just threw him over his head, causing the android to tumble through the air until it came to a stop at the window where it stayed for a while. Adara slowly approached it, noticing Thor’s gesture to Steve to not attack, and peered at it with a great amount of curiosity. It was difficult to tell whether it was looking out the window or at its own reflection. Either way, Adara had a feeling that this wasn’t just another Ultron.

It turned around, drifting back to where everyone was before calmly landing on the floor. Everyone else did not relax though.

“I’m sorry,” it apologised and its voice sounded familiar, “that was…” it glanced at Thor, “odd. Thank you,” Thor just looked at it. Seemingly intrigued, the android, after looking at the long, flowing cape that belonged to the demi-God, seemed to chose to have a cape of its own. It was yellow.

“Thor, you helped create this? Asked Steve.

“I've had a vision. A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life and at its center is that,” he pointed the gem in Vision’s head.

“What, the gem?” Asked Banner.

“It's the Mind Stone,” explained Thor, “It's one of the six Infinity Stones, the greatest power in the universe, unparalleled in its destructive capabilities.”

“Then why would you bring it to…” but Adara trailed off, not sure whether ‘life’ was the right word to use or not.

“Because Stark is right.”

“Oh, it's definitely the end times,” hummed Banner.

“The Avengers cannot defeat Ultron,” said the Asgardian.

“Not alone,” Vision added.

“Why does your ‘vision’ sound like JARVIS?” Steve asked Tony.”

“We...we reconfigured JARVIS' matrix to create something new.”  
“I think I've had my fill of new.”

“You think I’m a child of Ultron?” Asked Vision.

“You’re not?” Steve gave him a look.

Wanda also didn’t seem convinced, “I looked in your head and saw annihilation.”

“Look again.”

“Yeah,” snorted Clint, “her seal of approval means jack to me.”

“Their powers, the horrors in our heads, Ultron himself, they all came from the Mind Stone, and they're nothing compared to what it can unleash. But with it on our side…” Thor trailed off.

“Is it? Are you? On our side?” Steve asked.

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” said the android.

“I’d prefer it if it was simple,” said Adara, not liking the idea of having to deal with another piece of rogue A.I invented by Stark that was hell bent on world destruction.

“I’m on the side of life,” it told her, “Ultron isn't, he will end it all.”

“What's he waiting for?” Tony asked.

“You.”

“Where is he?” Asked Bruce.”

“Sokovia,” answered Clint, “Natasha’s there too.”

“If we're wrong about you,” Banner looked at the Vision, “if you're the monster that Ultron made you to be…”

“What will you do?” It asked, followed by silence and it slowly realised that they were going to destroy it, “I don't want to kill Ultron. He's unique, and he's in pain.” It began to pace and all eyes followed it, “But that pain will roll over the earth, so he must be destroyed. Every form he's built, every trace of his presence on the net, we have to act now. And not one of us can do it without the others. Maybe I am a monster. I don't think I'd know if I were one. I'm not what you are, and not what you intended. So there may be no way to make you trust me. But we need to go.”

None of them had realised that it had picked up Thor’s hammer and all of them stared dumbfounded when it did. Adara, remembering the fact that the closest any of them had got to lifting it had been a small, creak from Steve’s attempt. Then along came this Android who did it with no problem. Was it because he was worthy? Or because he was artificial? Adara pondered the idea.

Thor took the hammer, staring it for a second as though deciding what to do. He then smiled and patted Tony on the back. “Well done!” And walked off.

The rest of them turned to one another and Adara could already see Steve beginning to form a plan in his head.

“Three minutes,” he said, “get what you need.”

And so began to final battle.


	16. Chapter 16

May 6th, 2015  
Sokovia  
Ultron’s Extinction Level Event

She looked at her appearance, frowning in thought as her eyes locked on to the reflection of her own green eyes in a look that was calculating and cold. She wasn’t Adara. Well, she was. She wasn’t the usual Adara. She had changed back into the body she had chosen to disguise herself in before. Her hair was short again, back to the vivid, electric blue colour that contrasted greatly against the equally as harsh red of her lips. In this form, she was more toned, muscular and taller. It didn’t drain her much power for her to remain out of her usual body. It was more effort if she was switching gender or making herself look much older. This form was sustainable.

She was also wearing a suit that Tony had originally made for Natasha but had decided to give it to her for the final battle, promising that he would make some small adjustments to it after the battle. Well, if they ever made it out of the battle.

Steve must have realised that there was no arguing with the stubborn teenager because, unlike times before, it took him only a few minutes of arguing to finally agree to let her go. Maybe he didn't want Adara left in the tower alone. Or, maybe he was just desperate.

“Adara,” said the blonde super-solder and she looked up to where she had been looking at her face in the reflection, “you know what you’re doing.”

She nodded at him, cocky as ever, “overseeing the evacuation, I got it. No problem.”

Steve just rolled his eyes at her nonplussed attitude, “this is going to be dangerous.”

“I’ve done a lot of dangerous things,” she gave him a reassuring smile, “escaping from the Hydra base in D.C is still easily the riskiest and most terrifying thing I’ve ever done. Ultron is…” she trailed off, frowning, “I don’t know what the word I’m looking for is in English.”

“What’s the word in French?” Steve asked as he put on his helmet.

“I don’t know what it is in French either,” she shrugged, turning away from him, “oh, look. We’re landing.”

Clint parked the Quinjet down the the ground. There were seven of them inside, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton and Adara Thomas. Tony, with his suit, had flown ahead to get a grip of the situation at hand. So had the Vision.

Steve was quick to take charge, “Pietro, go down to the police station, try to get them to evacuate-” but he was gone. The blonde shook his head and went on, “Banner, you’re with Thor. Barton, you’re with me. Adara, stick with Wanda.”

The only twin left in the jet looked vaguely surprised, “I thought I was evacuating?”

“And now you have Adara for moral support,” he answered, “let’s get moving.”

 

The city was quiet when the two girls entered. Adara, as usual, had a knife in one hand and was twisting it impatiently as they moved through the streets. Everything was riding on this, if they couldn’t get the civilians out and they couldn’t stop Ultron, then that would be the end. Would that be so bad? Yes, she reckoned, it probably would be.

“You’re nervous,” said Wanda beside her.

“I’m not nervous,” Adara said, affronted at the idea, “I never get nervous.”

 

“Okay,” Wanda said but didn’t sound convinced, “I’m not nervous either. Just scared.”

She peered at her curiously. The twin had powers that made her practically unstoppable, how could she, of all people, feel scared? “Why are you scared?”

“I’m scared of losing,” she admitted, “of all of this. Tony might’ve created Ultron. But I am equally as responsible.”

 

“It’s everyone’s fault,” said Adara quietly, “but now we’re going to fix it.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Wanda told her, “you’re just a kid.”

 

“And you’re not much older yourself,” she retorted before calming, fixing the twin with a serious look, “and, besides, I am only a kid, but I’ve also done some screwed up things myself. I think that, if I can save the world once, then I can make up for all the mistakes I’ve made.”

“What happened to you with Hydra wasn’t your fault either,” pointed out Wanda.

Adara shook her head, “I was a coward. To scared to defy Luka. so, everytime he handed me a gun and told me to kill or torture in maim someone, I did it. No seconds thoughts.”

“You had no choice,” Wanda pointed out.

“Maybe,” Adara shrugged, “but I still did it.”

 

“Wanda!” Said Pietro who had suddenly blurred to a halt in front of them, “and… you…”

“It’s Adara,” the teen told him, the dry tone returning.

“Whatever,” he said, “anyway, the police aren’t doing anything to evacuate. They’re too slow. We need you, Wanda.”

The slightly younger twin nodded and the two pulled each other into a hug. Adara watched on with distant curiosity, wondering what it must be like to have a sibling. The thoughts were dashed when the conversation suddenly began again.

“Do we have a plan?” Asked Pietro.

“You should got to the corners of the city,” said Adara, “round up any stragglers and get them to evacuate whilst Wanda does her thing. As for me, I’ll stay on look out for any Ultron bots.”

 

“Sounds go-” but the rest of ‘good’ was lost to the wind as he sped away, immediately vanishing into a streak of silvery white, dashing away.

Adara clambered on top of one of the cars and nodded to Wanda who closed her eyes, stretching out with her powers. She watched in fascination as red tendrils erupted from her and seemed to spread everywhere, touching minds inside buildings and cars and everywhere else there was. Surely enough, people began to leave the building in a strange, zombie-like manner.

A while past and Adara was nearing the bridge, that was now filled with people attempting to weave through the traffic to get across. Wanda had since forgotten using her mind powers as everyone at this point knew to evacuate.

That’s when she saw them.

The Ultron bots came all at once and, before she could react, one of them crashed directly into her, causing her to tumble to the ground. Angered, she pushed herself back to her feet and just managed to dodge the bot as it came at her a second time. Before it could try for a third time, she had stabbed a knife through one of its eyes. There was a buzzing sound as it just looked at her, temporarily frozen, but not dead. She grabbed the top of its head and swung around its metallic body, ripping it off. 

It clattered to the ground, sparks flying from the wires that had once connected the neck to the head. Adara, never one to slow down, ducked out the way of a sentry that was shooting at her. She chucked the Ultron head she was still holding at its gun arm, disabling it. Then, with a lot more ease than last time, she took out her handgun and shot it three times in the chest, destroying it.

“In hindsight,” she muttered to herself, “that was probably easier than the knife.”

She turned around to see Wanda fighting off a couple of robots whilst attempting to push civilians out of the way at the same time. The teenager spotted one of the bots landing behind her.

“Wanda!” She yelled just as it shot at her.

Luckily, the witch managed to draw up a force field just in time, blocking any blasts from hitting the civilians crowded behind her. It only managed to sustain two shots when it came down, knocking Wanda to the floor. Adara shot the bot several times before rushing over the woman.

“Are you okay?” She asked, helping her up.

She nodded, “I’m fine. Just not used to this whole ‘Avengers’ thing.”

“Me neither,” agreed the teenager when the crowd suddenly started to violently shake, “but I think it’s about to get a whole lot worse.”

A nearby bridge shattered in half, debris falling to the ground. Adara and Wanda raced over to see a crack forming along the ground.

“Meteor,” muttered the witch, “this is Ultron’s plan.”

The ground started to rise and the two girls stumbled backwards from the force of it.

“We should probably get away from the edge,” Adara pulled the two back and they awkwardly ran towards where Clint was, ground rising and shaking beneath them. The archer was taking down a couple of ultron bots whilsts leaning against the side of a building for balance.

“Looks like Sokovia’s going for a ride,” he remarked.

“You know,” said Adara, “right now I should be doing revising for my English exam, guess I could write about what I did on my day off.”

“That’s if you make it out of this,” Clint said aiming as another bot approached.

“Do you see? The beauty of it, the inevitability,” it said in it’s human-like voice, “You, Avengers, you are my meteor, my swift and terrible sword and the earth will crack with the weight of your failure. urge me from your computers, turn my own flesh against me.” Clint shot an arrow at it but there was just another one behind, ready to continue, “It means nothing. When the dust settles, the only thing living in this world will be metal.”

“Go find Steve,” Clint muttered to her, “see how he’s handling this.”

 

Adara sprinted through the streets, shooting at anything she could see. Three Ultron bots was surrounding a family of four, pushing them closer to the edge. Adara raced towards them, grabbing one of the sentries by back of the neck and using it as a jump-off point to land a solid kick to one of the ones standing next to it, pushing it off the edge. She twisted the head of the one she was holding, disconnecting the wires and causing it to break down and shot the remaining one in the head.

She turned to the family, tugging them away from the edge and towards safety.

“Find shelter somewhere,” she told them, “we’re gonna find a way to get you out of here.” She suddenly noticed that one of the members of the family, a teenage boy around her age, was pointing a phone camera in her direction. “Are you seriously filming this?” She gave him a look.

He blinked but didn’t put the phone away, “uh-”

Another bot came flying at them but Adara didn’t falter, shooting it several times in the head before it could reach the family.

“Just put your phone down and go!” She shouted and raced towards where the bridge was.

Just before she reached him, an Ultron sentry flew straight at Steve, hitting him the chest and sending him soaring backwards through the air until he came crashing down on top of a car, putting a large dent in the roof and smashing the window screen to pieces. 

“Cap, you got incoming,” Tony warned inconveniently.

“Incoming already came,” muttered the Captain, pushing himself up before letting out a sigh. Adara paused, stopping to catch her breath as Steve began to hand out orders. “Stark, you worry about bringing the city back down safely.” He managed to jump of the car, straightening himself as Adara leant against an overturned truck, sheltering from Ultron Bots, “The rest of us have one job: tear these things apart. You get hurt, hurt 'em back. You get killed, walk it off.”

She let out a heavy sigh and popped up from her cover behind the truck, shooting at the incoming bots as they attacked everyone and everything. Biting her lips, she narrowed her eyes in concentration as she attempted to take down everything from a distance. But, as she grew more and more tired, it came harder to keep them away.

The first one landed right next to her and shot at her leg. She gritted her teeth, hissing out curse words in French and then firing at it. But the moment of distraction had given the opportunities for others to gather around. Pursing her lips and taking a deep breath in, Adara launched herself at them, pushing the first one she saw down to the ground and then using the heel of her boot to smash its face in. Twisting around, she shot three of them that were approaching behind her but was then distracted by another blast that she ducked at the very moment, the bolt flying just over her head. It fired again and she dropped to the ground fully this time.

“Baise toi,” she muttered, shooting it in the head.

When she looked up, there were two more moving towards her, one of them were raising their arms to reveal a white, glowing palm, ready to fire. She shot it before it could do anything and turned to the second one. She aimed and…

Click!

Out of ammo.

“J'espère que tu plaisantes,” she muttered to herself and tried again but, again, nothing. She glared at the robot, “screw the pleasantries. I’m just gonna rip your face off.”

“So aggressive,” it remarked and Adara was reminded that this was Ultron, “when this thing goes down, it will be good to know that people like you will be gone.”

She struggled back to her feet, “then stop talking shit and shoot.”

 

It laughed, if a robot could laugh, and aimed. Instead of firing though, it fell to ground after the ‘bang’ of a gun being fired went off. From the smoke, Natasha appeared.

“Giving up so easily?” She asked.

Adara couldn’t help but grin and gestured to her gun, “out of ammo.”

“Try this,” said the redhead, throwing her a new handgun, “I only need one.”

She clicked the safety off and looked at her, “Banner?”

“He looks a bit green, I don’t think he’s feeling too good.”

“Loving the humour.”

“It’s the end of the world,” shrugged Natasha who offered the teenager a hand, “the jokes make it a little less miserable.” She took the hand and Natasha pulled her back to her feet before frowning. “You’re hurt.”

 

“Yeah, the damn bastard got a hit on me. I can’t really feel it though.”

“Let me check.”

 

Adara snorted, “are you kidding? We’re kind of in the middle of something here.”

 

“I just want to check that you- duck!” She yelled as an ultron bot flew directly overhead, skimming the tips of their hair. 

Natasha shoved Adara behind her who began to fire at more of the incoming attackers. Meanwhile, the redhead was concentrating on taking down a different bot using her electric baton. 

“Romanoff!” Shouted a voice behind her.

She ducked to the side just in time to see a red, white and blue shield fly into the back of the bot she had been fighting. She quickly pulled out and ducked behind it as a different one came running towards her, firing as it went. As it attacked her up close, she dodged and blocked each punch and threw the shield back to Steve when he got close enough. He caught it, jumped up in the air and brought it back down on the bot, destroying it.

Panting, Adara slid between the two of them as the rising city began to go into the clouds. “I think that’s the first wave over.”

Natasha nodded, also out of breath, and ruffled Adara’s currently blue hair, much to the teenager’s annoyance. 

“The next wave's gonna hit any minute,” the super-soldier said from her other side, “What have you got, Stark?”

 

“Well, nothing great,” Adara didn’t like the sound in Tony’s voice as he said it, “maybe a way to blow up the city. That'll keep it from impacting the surface if you guys can get clear.”

“I asked for a solution, not an escape plan,” was all Steve said.

“Impact radius is getting bigger every second. We're going to have to make a choice.”

 

Adara looked around at everyone. Mothers were huddling over their children who were crying. Friends and family were gripping onto one another for dear life, fear in their eyes. Police officers were trying and failing to get control and to get everyone to safety whilst some people shouted in protest about missing family members or friends. Other people were sobbing whilst some were silent, staring into space.

Adara watched it all with sorrowful, green eyes, “we can’t kill them,” she said, “It’s wrong.”

 

“But what can we do?” Said Natasha, “these people aren’t getting off this rock. We’re going to have to make a choice.”

“Not until everyone is safe,” replied the Captain firmly.

“Everyone up here versus everyone down there? There's no math there.”

“I'm not leaving this rock with one civilian on it.”

“I didn’t say we should leave,” the redhead said and both Steve and Adara turned to look at her, “there’s worse ways to go. Besides, where else am I going to get a view like this.”

 

Adara looked back out at the sky. They were above the clouds now, the ground hidden by the fluffy white things that drifted lazily across the sky, hardly disturbed by the floating city. The sky was a clear blue with now only a couple, thinly spaced clouds above their heads. It was cold and breezy, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was almost peaceful without the bots fighting constantly over their heads.

Then, a disturbance.

“Glad you like the view, Romanoff,” came the voice of Nick Fury, “It's about to get better.”

Adara couldn’t help but grin as the helicarrier emerged from the clouds and into the sky, blotting out the sunlight and casting an impressive shadow across the city. Fury hadn’t been kidding when he said he was planning on doing something dramatic. “Nice, right? I pulled her out of mothballs with a couple of old friends. She's dusty, but she'll do.”

“Fury,” Steve shook his head, shocked but relieved, “you son of a bitch.”

“Oooh! You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Replied the director with snark.

Then, several ships came flying out of the Helicarrier, moving towards the city. They were lifeboats, Adara realised with a jolt, a way off the rock.

“Is this SHIELD?” Asked Pietro who had zoomed in beside them.

Steve nodded, “this is what SHIELD’s supposed to be.”

“This is not so bad.”

 

As the lifeboats parked down on the ground, Steve began to move, “let’s load ‘em up.”

Adara rushed over to the bridge, climbing on top of a car so she had a vantage point as crowds of people began to move onto the ship. She hurried them along, keeping one eye on the sky for any incoming attackers at the same time.

“Come on, people!” She said, “let’s get moving!”

 

It filled up pretty quickly and Adara was relieved to see that the whole city was beginning to empty out as the ships drifted back towards the safety of the helicarrier.

“You should get on,” said Natasha beside her.

The teenager shook her head, “non, we’re not done here.”

“Avengers,” came Tony’s voice, “time to work for a living!”

Natasha gestured for Adara to follow and she did and, before she knew it, her and Natasha were speeding towards the centre of the city in a yellow truck, mowing down any Ultron bots in their way with the redhead at the wheel.

“Romanoff?” The billionaire began cockily, “You and Banner better not be playing ‘hide the zucchini.’”

“Relax, Shell-head. Not all of us can fly,” she looked at Adara and grinned, “besides, I’ve got the teenager with me too.”

They crashed into the fence outside the church and Adara walked in, joining to others.

“What’s the plan?” She asked.

“This is the drill,” Tony pointed to the strange machine in the centre of the church, “If Ultron gets a hand on the core, we lose.”

Hulk quickly joined the rest of the team just as the main body of Ultron flew down, looking a lot bigger than he had previously.

“Is that the best you can do?” Demanded Thor and Adara wanted to face palm as a countless amount of bots appeared from the crooks and crannies of the city, charging towards them.

“You had to ask,” muttered Steve.

“This is the best I can do,” said Ultron, as overdramatic as ever, “this is exactly what I wanted. All of you, against all of me. How could you possibly hope to stop me?”

None of them were dissuaded.

“Well,” began Tony, “like the old man said,” he fixed the robot with a glare, “together.”

As the Hulk let out a thundering roar, the robots began to charge towards them, not slowing down and not stopping. Some climbed up the walls of the church, crawling like insects whilst others crashed through the building itself by flying straight at them. Adara ducked low as Natasha fired over her head at ones that flew and she took the lower position, firing at the ones that ran. Overhead, Vision and Tony were taking out as many as they could whilst Clint used his arrows to shoot from a range.

One had managed to slip past her and grabbed Adara by the back of the neck. She grabbed its head and, for what felt the hundredth time in one day, twisted the head and detached, throwing it directly at a different bot. She felt its grip slacken and, now released, turned to keep firing until she ran out of ammo once again.

She glanced at Natasha, drawing out her knives, “mind giving me a boost.”

 

Natasha nodded, readying herself. Adara ran straight at her, jumping off of her hands and launching herself up in the air, landing on one of the bots and pushing it to the ground. Before it even made an impact, she stabbed it in the back of the neck with one knife and used the other to dig into a different robot overhead, hanging on to the that one as it struggled to fly with the weight of Adara hanging on. She swung herself upwards so her legs were wrapped around its body and, with her heels, she kicked its head off. The body crashed down to the ground and, with her last effort, Adara pulled the knife out of it.

“Nice moves,” remarked Natasha.

Adara cracked her knuckles, “maybe I should take up gymnastics.”

Ultron had been punched to high heaven by Hulk, the remaining bots making a headway to escape. 

“ We gotta move out,” Steve said, “even I can tell the air is getting thin. You guys get to the boats, I'll sweep for stragglers, be right behind you. Natasha, stick with Adara.”

The teenager frowned, “I’m not two, you know,” but was ignored.

“What about the core?” Asked Barton.

“I'll protect it,” said Wanda, taking everyone by surprise, “It's my job.”

Clint nodded and looked and Natasha who followed. Vaguely annoyed at being left behind, but too tired to do shout, Adara gave a slow jog behind. She caught a straggler robot, half destroyed and crawling across the floor. She stopped, watching it for a couple seconds, letting Clint and Natasha go ahead.

“You’re pathetic,” she told it, “you know that?”

“I’m not finished,” it grumbled at her, “even if I can’t do it, humanity will be its own downfall.”

Adara narrowed her eyes, “maybe.”

 

“You don’t believe me,” it said.

“People can be good,” she said, “I’ve seen the good in people. You might believe that the Avengers are wrong, but look around. You’re chaos, they’re just trying to fix their own mess. They’re stupid, sure. They do dumb things, sure. But they accept it and fix it.”

“So naive,” it remarked, “I would’ve expected a little more maturity from a girl who has been through so much. Surely you, of all people, should know that humans are evil?”

Adara’s smirk turned into a frown, “I know that humans can be evil. I know they can be good. I’ve done some terrible shit. Back in Hydra, I used to be so scared of everyone that, the moment someone told me to kill, I would do it. I would’ve shot myself in the foot if they’d ordered it. I would’ve killed everyone if they ordered it. I like to think that I’ve redeemed myself a little.”

 

“The people you’ve killed are still dead,” it pointed out, “there’s no bringing them back. No making up for your mistakes.”

Her expression was mild, “you’ve killed too.”

“Unlike you, I don’t dwell on it.”

“Then maybe,” Adara walked towards it, placing a foot over its head, “you’ll realise that that will be your undoing.” she pressed her foot down, crushing its head into pieces of metal and wire.

“Adara!” Called Natasha, “get on a boat!”

She looked away from the robot wreckage, “yeah, I’m coming.”

When she reached the boat, Clint was already there, waiting for her.

“Natasha’s gone to do the lullaby,” he said.

“I figured,” she muttered, collapsing down on the side and pressing her hand down on the wound on where she had been shot earlier, the adrenaline fading out of her, “I think I need a nap.”

 

“Costel!” Said a woman’s voice and the two of them twisted around to see a woman who was heavily bleeding from her head calling out for someone with great desperation, “we were in the market. Costel?”

Adara’s eyes found the small boy through the smoke. Clint had seen him to. He looked at Adara who nodded and jogged back out into the city to get the boy. It was eerily quiet and, for some reason, she could feel dread building up inside of her. Ignoring her instincts, she turned back to her leg. She had bled through the catsuit and, now that the excitement had faded, she was really beginning to feel the sharp shocks of pain. Unlike a normal bullet, the blast had sliced through and burnt her leg at the same time but, luckily, it was only her outer thigh. She glanced back to see Clint, who had reached the boy.

He had only just picked up the kid when Adara had heard the sound. She stood up, wound forgotten and raised towards him.

“Clint!” She yelled but was too late.

The next few seconds were confusing.

The archer had seen the Quinjet coming and had twisted around to shield the little boy from the relentless fire that rained down to the ground, creating a fog of debris and dirt. When it cleared, Adara could see that Clint was still standing, the boy still in his arms.

It was then that she realised with a jolt that Pietro Maximoff had shoved them to safety. Them she also realised that Pietro Maximoff was bleeding immensely from multiple gunshot wounds. The twin fell to the ground, undeniably dead. 

Adara stumbled over at the same time as Steve, the two looking down at the body which Clint was checking. He looked up at the both of them and shook his head. 

From there it was a blur. Adara had stumbled back to the boat, waving off the aid of a medic and chose to collapse against one of the chairs, not even having the energy to sit atop it. From there, her wound still bleeding but forgotten, she passed out.


	17. Chapter 17

“It’s fine,” Adara swung her leg back and forth to prove her point, “see, good as new.”

“Let me look,” demanded Natasha and the teenager rolled her eyes but rolled up her leggings to show where the wound had been. The redhead inspected it for a few seconds before nodding, “you’re right. I guess your healing powers are getting better.”

“I suppose,” she shrugged modestly, “it’s still fucking exhausting to do though. How long was I out?”

“Around twelve hours.”

After Adara had passed out on the lifeboat, she had awoken to find that the Earth was still there, but the floating city had been blown to smithereens, and was now lying as debris in the bottom of the ocean. Her leg wound hadn’t healed up much despite being knocked out, so Natasha had told her to attempt to heal it herself. Of course, the most complicated thing that Adara had ever healed was a couple of cuts on her hand, this wound was much bigger and had the potential to be far more damaging. However, after several hours of concentrating, she had finally managed to heal it, and had proceeded to fall asleep straight after.

“Maybe I should purposefully maim myself to practice,” she suggested.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, “I think Steve would have something to say about that.”

 

The two of them were in a spare bedroom in the facility. The facility they had moved into not too long ago. Stark was selling his own building in central Manhattan and had chosen to move up state to set up shop in a much bigger and more flexible area for building. He was planning an expansive facility complete with bedrooms, living rooms, several kitchens, several bathrooms, a training room, another training room, a jet hanger and other places that Adara couldn’t list off the top of her head. There was one problem with it though, one she wasn’t about to bring up just yet.

“I guess,” she shrugged, “besides that, any word on Banner?”

Natasha shook her head sadly, “nothing yet.”

 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Adara assured her, “he probably turned back into his normal self and ran off to Mumbai or something and is chilling on the beach. He’ll send you a postcard in a week or so probably.”

Natasha smiled and ruffled the teens hair, who frowned at the action.

“In other news,” she announced, “whilst you were knocked out, you were also making headlines.”

Adara blinked, “what?”

“Just take a look at this…” 

Natasha turned on the tv remotely, this was Stark tech of course, and, on screen, appeared a blonde, female news anchor with a too wide, white toothed smile and a look that screamed ‘plastic surgery.’ she was standing in front of a green screen that had on the ground footage from phone cameras filming the events.

“Furthermore,” she said, continuing on from whatever she had been saying before the two had tuned in, “other footage released onto social media spotted another new superhero working alongside the Avengers. Unlike the Maximoff twins and the hero nicknamed ‘the Vision,’ there has been no official word of her hero status. Here is Jackson Matthews with a report.”

The screen then cut to a man standing in front of the rubble of Sokovia, this time it was not a green screen. Behind were a gathering of people all holding candles. There was a pause before he began talking.

“Thank you, Janet,” the reporter said, “I’m here in Sokovia in front of the newly erected memorial for those who perished in the attacks. Among the dead is the enhanced hero, Pietro Maximoff, who fought alongside the Avengers to save the world and Sokovia from the almost inevitable destruction. Sadly, he was killed in action after saving many lives and will be commemorated here tonight in the mourning ceremony.”

Adara frowned, the news commentary was bringing back sour memories of Pietro’s death and how he had shielded Clint and the boy from Ultron’s gunfire. Adara had not known him well, but knew that he was a good man in the end and had definitely died an Avenger. Adara had hoped she would never have to see more good people die after what happened to her parents, but the world was relentless in its killing. She could picture the trauma and heartache that Wanda must be going through and was deeply sorrowful for the girl. She kept it in mind to keep an eye on her.

“Alongside Pietro Maximoff,” said the reporter, drawing the teenager out of her thoughts, “Wanda Maximoff, his twin who was been nicknamed ‘the Scarlet Witch,’ also fought in the battle as well as the Android, ‘the Vision.’ Statements have since been released confirming their part as fighting alongside the Avengers. However, one mysterious figure who seemed to allied with the superhero team still remains unknown. Here’s is a clip now:”

 

A grainy image appeared on screen of a tall girl with blue hair, red lips and glimmering green skillfully taking down several Ultron bots at once. Adara tilted her head to the side, suddenly recognising it as footage of herself. Her mind drifted back to the teenage boy who had been filming her as she had saved his family from near death. 

“Are you seriously filming me?” Demanded the on screen version of her and Adara glanced at Natasha, who raised an amused eyebrow. Just then, on screen, another robot flew down, nearly taking down the camera man if it hadn’t been for Adara shooting it in the head. “Just put your phone down and go!” She had screamed and the footage cut off there.

“Other clips show this mysterious hero fighting alongside the well known Avenger, the Black Widow,” it cut back to the reporter who was still standing in front of the memorial, “there had also been several other images of this hero interacting with Avengers such as Captain America and the Scarlet Witch.” As the said images popped up on screen, Adara felt more and more uncomfortable, “whilst little is known about this new superhero and whether she has any enhanced abilities or not, the internet has already taken to theories. Whilst no two are the same, all seem to agree on a nickname for her…”

Natasha laughed. Adara clenched her fist.

“They’ve nicknamed me Blue-Bell?” She spat out the name like it was poison, her accent becoming more clear and distinct when angry, “why, because my hair is blue? They decided to name me after a fucking flower despite the fact that I took down more Ultron bots than they could ever dream on. C'est tellement stupide!”

Natasha shook her head, “calme-toi.”

 

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Adara flapped her hands about, attempting to make a gesture of some sorts but ended up looking a bit stupid as she stuttered for words, “fucking Blue-Bell!”

“I think it’s cute.”

“Exactly, it shouldn’t be cute,” she crossed her arms, “it they were going to nick-name me after my hair, they could have at least gone for something more exciting.”

“Like what.”

“I don’t know! Anything! Anything would be better than Blue-Bell!”

Much to the teenager’s annoyance, Natasha just laughed and ruffled her hair again, causing Adara to almost physically growl in annoyance. How could the media coin her with such a stupid name? She was going to fuming over this for the next several days.

Her phone started ringing and she snatched the opportunity to get away from anymore of Natasha’s teasing.

“I’m gonna take this,” she said to the still-smirking redhead, stalking out the room and picking up the phone, “hey, Pete.”

“Hey, Dara,” came his reply, “it’s Friday.”

“Really?” She pursed her lips, smiling to herself, “because last time I checked, you weren’t called Friday, you were called Peter.”

He scoffed but sounded slightly amused, “you know what I mean, today is Friday. You’ve missed the entire week.”

“Guess I have a lot of catching up to do,” she didn’t really know where she was walking to, she was just letting her feet carry her whilst she chatted to Peter.

“Will you be coming in Monday?”

“Almost definitely.”

He sounded relieved, “thank God, Flash was beginning to drive me crazy. Ned said that, when your around, you scare him away.”

“No surprise there,” she snorted, “is that why you called me?”

“Uh- no, actually,” he stuttered, thinking of the right words, “I actually just wanted to check up on you. To see if you were okay after the talk we had a couple days ago. I’ve been trying to call you but you haven’t been picking up.”

 

“Sorry about that,” she hummed, but was secretly smiling to herself, feeling weirdly happy that he felt concern and didn’t think she was just weird, “I’ve been busy. When I called you, I wasn’t going through a great time, I guess, I just needed to talk to someone. And that someone happened to be you. But I’m okay now.”

“That’s good,” he nodded stupidly, forgetting she couldn’t see him, “just so you know, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here, Dara.”

She felt a strangely warm, fuzzy feeling come over her. One that was almost indescribable. She shook it off, it must be because she had spent so long knocked out or something like that, why else could she be feeling so strange?

“Thanks, Pete,” she found herself walking outside, on the grassy lawn beside the building, “sorry I’ve been so weird for the past week.”

 

“It’s fine,” said the boy, “seriously, don’t worry about it. You’ll be back on Monday anyway, I think Ned has been dying to ask what you’ve been up to.”

 

“Yeah?”

“He wants to talk about the new superheroes on the news,” he explained and Adara suppressed a groan at the reminder of her stupid, hero nickname, “I guess that’s something to look forward to.”

 

She smiled when she saw Steve waving at her, “I suppose. It’s a Friday today, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I’ll see you after the weekend, then,” she said, “I have a feeling things are going to get better from here.”

 

“You think?”

“No, I’m sure of it,” she nodded to herself, “à plus tard, Peter Parker.”

 

“Yeah,” he grinned from his end, “See you later, Adara Thomas.”

She clicked the phone off, ending the call, as she drew closer to the blonde super-soldier who had been left standing outside. When she thought about it, Adara didn’t actually know what Steve’s plans were from here. Would he be staying at the facility? Or did he have other plans. Adara made a mental note to ask him.

“Salut,” she greeted when she drew close.

“How’s your leg?” Asked Steve.

She shrugged, “as good as new. And you? How are you feeling after this whole mess?”

“Different,” he looked thoughtful, “in a way. I’ve decided to make a change in my life.”

 

The teenager frowned, visibly confused, “what are you talking about? What change? You gonna retire like Clint? To be fair, you are the right age.”

He faked a look of offensive and ruffled her hair, she shoved his hand a way, finding herself growing increasingly annoyed at the amount of people who thought it was okay to mess with her hair. Just because she was a shapeshifter and could change her look at will didn’t mean she liked it.

“No,” he shook his head, “I’m not going to retire.”

Peering curiously at him, she asked, “what are you planning on doing then?”

“Well, after some looking, I’ve found a place in Brooklyn,” he shrugged, “a three bedroomed house, looks pretty cosy. Just the kind of thing I need between world ending events, you know what I mean?” 

She raised an eyebrow at him, “sounds nice. Three bedrooms is a lot for one person.”

“It wouldn’t just be me,” he shrugged, “I’ve already asked Tasha, she said she would like a place to lay low for a little while too. But, we’ve still got a room free, if you want.” Adara looked up but didn’t say anything as he went on, “I know that this place is far from your school, like a forty minute drive or something. And I’m not saying you have to, the facility is nice and you can stay here if you want. All I’m saying is, if you want to stay with us, you can. We’ll probably be spending weekends and holidays at he compound anyway. If you don’t, that’s fine as well, you can still attend school from here, granted it’s a long trip. Or we could just sort out a different school for you to go to, that’s fine as-”

 

“Steve,” she cut him off, getting seriously tired of his rambling, “I was already going to say yes the moment you offered. You don’t need to sell it to me like a real estate agent.”

 

The blonde looked a little relieved, “really? You’d want to?”

She shrugged, “obviously. It’s more convenient for me and,” she shrugged, “I get to know what it’s like to live in a real house.” As the two continued talking, they began to walk back towards the compound, “what are you planning do whilst you’re not superhero-ing?”

“Help Sam look for Bucky,” he said, “sort out any other Hydra bases that might be lying around. Go on a few missions. Maybe get a gym membership,” he shrugged, “the possibilities are endless.”

 

“Maybe you guys can come to my next parent-teacher conference,” she snorted to herself, “or maybe I’ll get into a fight so the school has to call you in.”

Steve gave her a mild but stern look, “please don’t start any fights.”

 

“Too late,” she smirked and laughed when she saw the look on his face, “relax! It was only one, and it was months ago. The boy deserved it, believe me. It’s funny because, despite beating his face in, he has a massive crush on me now.”

 

“Wow,” hummed the super-soldier, “he sounds… curious.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” she chuckled to herself and shook her head, turning back to Steve, “so, what’s the plan for this whole house thing?”

“Well, we’ll be moving in in about a weeks time,” he explained, “me, you and Tasha are gonna be the only permanent residents.”

“And you implying…?”

“Sam might stop by every once and a while, as well as anyone else who needs to,” he shrugged, “but mainly Sam. But, at weekends, we’ll probably head back up to the compound, we need to train the new recruits.”

 

“New recruits?”

“The new members of the Avengers.”

 

“Am I in it?”

“Adara, you’re fourteen.”

“Fair point,” she nodded, “anyway, school has got me too busy for Avenging.”

“Really?”

“Have you seen the amount of exams you have to do just to get a passing grade,” she scoffed, “I mean, I handle stress very well, I like to think, but you should see some people in my grade. One time, I was in the library because I needed to photocopy something when I saw this girl…”

 

Steve smiled as he listened to the girl ramble on. Adara had definitely come into her own as a person since they had found her being attacked in the alleyway all those months ago. She had gone from being a pretty rude, tight-lipped girl who would spend most of her nights shouting in her sleep to one that, whilst still pretty rude, had developed a lot as a person. Gone were the vague answers to everyone question and, in its place, was a girl who could ramble, make quipps and, a trait she had likely gotten off Tony, had also become slightly big-headed. But Steve wasn’t about to complain. It showed that she was confident in herself, a trait rare for teenage girls, and he liked seeing how peppy she had become. 

Sure, she still had the nightmares. There were still days were she would become more reclusive, especially after Wanda’s vision.

But she was moving on from it. And Steve just had a feeling that maybe thing were going to get better from here.

 

“Thing are going to get better from here,” said the man with a thick New Yorkian accent, tapping a pen on his desk, “sure, the loss of Strucker and List and the base in Sokovia was a bit of a blow, but Hydra isn’t over just yet.”

He was in a white-walled, fancy office that had a lovely view of the Washington landscape behind him as well as a large, American Flag hanging from the wall. Several shelves lined with medals and trophies of service to the Military also stood there, proudly glinting in the sunlight that seeped through the window. Sure, it was a nice office, much better than most people could ever hope for. However, if people knew the dark secrets that lurked underneath the surface, they wouldn’t dare set in a foot in there. This was the office of U.S military General George Damian Luka, who preferred going by his second name. Former associate of Shield who had been questioned about his ties to the organisation after the fall, but nothing had come of it. A normal citizen would see him in the news and label him as a ‘respectable man doing a great service to his country.’ Little did they know, was that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“No doubt, sir,” agreed Agent Phelps, a man who had previously worked for a small coffee shop near the triskelion, but had lost everything after the aerial battle that had taken place there. A young, vulnerable man in his mid-twenties with little higher education was a prime target for Hydra. “Your position in the military still remains strong.”

 

The General nodded, “they don’t suspect a thing.”

“What about the Avengers, sir?” Squeaked a quieter voice, the newest recruit to the remnants of Hydra. A Sokovian man who had lost his home in the battle not too long ago, “I’ve seen them in action, sir. They’re very powerful, sir.”

 

Luka had to force himself to not roll his eyes. Sure, he liked respect from his subordinates but addressing him as ‘sir’ at the end of every fucking sentence made you come off like a weak idiot. Then again, weak idiots were always the most loyal.

“We won’t have to worry about the Avengers,” Luka assured them, “they are too…” he looked for the right word, “too standoffish with the world around them. The government hates them, especially Secretary Ross. The poor man has a heart attack everytime he sees them leaving their little, cosy compound. Git.” He shook his head, “No, eventually the Avengers will have no choice but to bow down to us eventually. Then, Hydra can make their move.”

“How long would that take, sir?” Asked the squeaky man again.

“A year, maybe longer,” he shrugged, “Sokovia was a disaster in terms of life-loss. The Avengers aren’t getting off of this one easily. We can twist the situation to work our own way.”

“And then what, sir?” Asked Agent Phelps in a much more respectable and proper manner than squeaky man.

 

“We demand for the identity of the Blue-Bell, of course,” Luka had a smug air about him as he said it, “she is the key to all of us.”

“Blue-bell, sir?” Enquired Squeaky man, “isn’t she-”

 

“She’s Adara Thomas,” the General said firmly, “I have no doubt. If we can get that damn girl back, she could become for us what the Winter Soldier once was for us. What the Black Widow once was for the KGB. It would only take a couple of mind wipes.”

 

“But, sir-”

 

“I know what I’m doing,” Luka said calmly, but had a lace of threat in his tone, “Phelps, what word do we have on the girl?”

“Very little, I’m afraid, sir,” said the agent, “the Avengers keep her under very tight wraps. She is attending middle school.”

 

“Wasted talent,” he shook his head in disappointment, “we’ll keep a close eye on things and, if everything goes according to plan, things are going to get much better from here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANNNNNDDDD that's the Age of Ultron Storyline completed, time for me to vanish for another six months or so and then update the next one lol. No, I'll try and finish uploading this entire story within the next two months so it's up to date with the ff.net one.  
> But, seriously, if anyone is reading this and can't be bothered to wait then I'd recommend just checking it out on Fanfiction.net where I'm currently up to the Endgame storyline and am still updating fairly regularly. It's under the same name but my username there is Scrapingskies if anyone is interested.


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